


Moments of Almost

by kitsune13tamlin



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Canon - Video Game, Cloti - Freeform, Crisis Core Era (Compilation of FFVII), F/M, Mutual Pining, OG Era, Spoilers, cliches, cliches as far as the eye can see, look its just going to be all over the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2020-08-13 17:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 49,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune13tamlin/pseuds/kitsune13tamlin
Summary: someone asked that I move some of my old Cloti fic over to this site and even if I'm not writing for this fandom anymore I do have a lot of accumulated fic for it.  This is going to be a collection of short moments in time where things -almost- connected.  Moments when Cloud and Tifa came close to finally crossing the line, finally making that move, finally understanding what the other was trying to say without words.  Scattered throughout the FFVII timeline, these are snippets of 'almost'.





	1. The Cliche Closet Conundrum

**Author's Note:**

> so. This was written a long time ago. So long ago in fact that the original actually had characters talking to each other via fourth wall in it. But it was funny and cute and I remembered it in the middle of the night last night and - here we go. What do you do when your best friend has a crush on a girl but isn't doing anything about it? Well, if you're Zack Fair you take a tip from fanfiction. Which - goes about as well as anyone would expect.

**The Cliché Closet Conundrum**

by TamLin

Zack was bored.

It was a rough thing on him, being bored. He liked to think he was a man of action, always on the look out for heroic deeds, work to be done, or… well, mischief was pretty good too. The point was – he was a man of action. And kicking around this backwater town was _killing_ him…

Not that Nibelheim wasn't nice. It was. It was rustic and wild and small and mellow. He liked exploring the mountains; Cloud was a kick ass guide. So was Tifa. Both of them knew all kinds of cool and obscure places hidden in the mountains. But Cloud was sulking in the hotel room and Tifa was out training.

Things were a lot less fun without Cloud.

Zack swung his arms wide and dropped to do a couple of squats.

Sephiroth was _still _holed up in that dusty old house. He couldn't seriously be intending to read _all_ those books. Could he?

Zack was afraid he could, and that he would, which meant even more boredom and sitting still. Shouldn't they be doing something about those weird monsters in the reactor? Or Genesis? Sephiroth must have sent in a report, the guy was a stickler. Were they waiting for reinforcements, the Turks, or new orders? Zack didn't know. He wasn't the commanding officer and Sephiroth just kept saying 'let me be alone'. He was tempted to call ShinRa himself but that felt a little like insubordination, going behind the General's back like that. The army was a 'need to know' kind of place, and Zack wasn't sure that he needed to know so much as wanted to. That, and more importantly, he didn't know if he'd be willing to trust whatever they told him if he did get through to talk to somebody. At this point, he trusted the General more than he trusted the company.

He finished his exercise and straightened but it hadn't burned off much of his excess energy.

This town didn't even have a pool hall! Not even a pinball machine!

Running his hands through his hair he thought maybe he'd go get Spiky. There was that mountain lake that looked like it was an entire other world instead of a reflection of the one above it that Tifa had shown him the last time they'd gone kicking around. He'd get Cloud and they could go swimming! It would be freezing but that's what mountain lakes were supposed to be for, right? From what he understood, alcohol was usually a factor in mountain lake skinny-dipping but Zack didn't need alcohol to have fun. He smacked his fist into his palm and turned for the inn.

And then stopped.

Right. Spike. He was still moping over not being a SOLDIER. No… Zack was a little bit more observant than that. Cloud was moping about not being a SOLDIER for _Tifa_.

He'd known the guy was hung up on some girl. There were too many signs even though he never said anything and once Zack had fallen head over heels for his own girl –

Aerith.

Man, he wondered how she was doing. He wanted to call her but he'd already called her that morning. He didn't have anything new to talk about. He hated being on the phone and suddenly running out of things to say. Usually it wasn't a problem but seriously –

Nothing was going on!

What had he been thinking about? Oh, Cloud. Yeah. Spike had it bad. It was kind of funny because Zack had always assumed any girl Cloud fell for would be the brainy type. All quiet with glasses and mousy hair. Instead it turned out Cloud had it for the town hottie! Except… Tifa didn't act like the town hottie or at least not like any town hottie Zack had ever met. She was really – normal. Nice and thoughtful and helpful and funny and tough. Zack got why Cloud was so hung up on her and he didn't think it was the long legs or the impressive chest. She was nice.

He bet Aerith would have liked her.

Not that he was stupid enough to tell his girl about Tifa. Not while he was still in the same village with that girl and his own girl was an ocean away. Zack knew he might not be the genius Seph was but he sure as fire wasn't stupid. He rubbed the back of his head. He'd tell Aerith about Tifa when they were together again and he'd do it because he'd be talking about Cloud and his thing for her.

Cloud and his thing for the village guide… Tifa would be good for him. She was shy too in the weirdest way but she'd be good for Cloud. She sure seemed interested in finding out about someone that sounded a lot like Cloud… and about how the soldier that had saved her was doing… It made Zack grin. Maybe she had a thing for his friend too! That would be cool. Cloud was a cool guy. They could get together and then he and Aerith could get together and they could all go out together! Then Zack exhaled and frowned. Except Cloud was never going to make a move on Tifa at this rate and even if Seph _did_ read _all_ those books they'd still be leaving pretty soon. Still frowning, Zack crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his chin.

Obviously someone had to do something…

The thought made him grin and then frown again.

Obviously, as Cloud's best bud and friend, it was Zack's job to be that someone. But what could he do? Instinctively he knew that just telling Spike to get his ass in gear wasn't going to motivate. Cloud could be stubborn sometimes. Okay, all the time. Zack thought he was a pretty brave guy. After all, Spike had been with Tseng in the clone camp and he'd showed up to try to help with Hollander and he'd taken on those monsters on the mountain and then a summon AND Genesis clones at the reactor. The guy was quiet about it but Zack knew he wasn't a coward. Somehow, he didn't think that hitting on Tifa was within Spike's courage level though. Not even if Zack told him it was a pretty good chance she'd go for it.

That meant he had to be sneaky about this. Kind of like… an covert mission. Yeah! Subtle…

Zack rubbed his chin and settled into his 'contemplating' pose. Almost immediately he snapped his fingers but then he frowned again. No, he couldn't call Aerith and get the woman's viewpoint on this. He'd already decided it was safer to save talking about another girl, even another guy's girl, until he could do it to her face and watch her eyes to see if he was getting into trouble or not. And he certainly wasn't going to ask the General.

Though the thought was kind of funny…

'Focus, Zack! This is your best buddy's future happiness at stake! If you don't make sure he gets his girl, he's going to end up like… like Tseng. Think, man, think! You can't let that happen to Spiky.'

Several townspeople, going about their daily routines, spared slightly worried looks for the form of the SOLDIER 1st Class standing with his hand frozen on his chin near the well. Mr. Green, the local grocer, commented he'd been that way without moving for almost an hour. He wasn't the only one that jumped reflexively when the young man sudden jumped himself, snapping his finger and rushed off to the inn with a yell. The grin on his face, it was commented, looked a bit… maniacal.

But everyone knew SOLDIERs weren't the most stable anyway.

"Zack?" Cloud sounded slightly suspicious and the look in his eyes mirrored the tone.

"What?"

"You're not on sugar pills by accident again, are you?"

"No," the dark haired man was quick to defend. "That was a one time thing. Placebos or whatever. I was supposed to think they were mood-relaxers. The doc just forgot they were made mostly of sugar."

Cloud's hum was noncommittal but he stepped away from the window he'd been looking out and picked up his helmet. Spike wouldn't even go outside his room without it on.

"You sure we need to go up to the reactor again?" Cloud asked as he pulled it on. "I'm kind of worried about leaving the General alone. He's… acting kind of weird."

That did make Zack pause. Cloud has a weird way of reading people. He thought maybe it was because Spike was scary observant. If he said Sephiroth was acting weird, than Sephiroth was acting weird. Or… weirder than he usually did at least. Zack rubbed the back of his head and thought about it but decided they'd be okay. He'd already checked in on Seph and the guy was only about halfway down the hall of bookshelves and still doing his 'let me be alone' bit. Besides – they weren't really going to the reactor. That was just his excuse.

"It'll be okay," he assured his friend. "We won't be gone that long."

"Okay," the blond tightened the strap that held his helmet on and then slung his rifle over his shoulder. Spiky was a pretty good shot but both he and Zack thought he'd look better with a sword instead.

Maybe if Zack's plan worked, he'd figure out a way to make that happen too. A good woman could be some kind of motivation and Zack had already meant to bring up Cloud's SOLDIER test to Seph once this thing was over and the General had been able to see just how awesome Spike really was. Cloud was stubborn enough, he could make SOLDIER 1st, and who knew what else, if they'd only give him a chance.

"Cool!" Zack clapped his friend on the shoulder and then went out the door and down the stairs two at a time. Cloud took them slower and the nearer he got to the bottom the more his steps slowed. Zack ignored it.

"Now we gotta go pick up Tifa and then we're good to go!"

"Tifa's coming?" Cloud asked and there was such a mix of emotions in his quiet voice that it made Zack's chest hurt in sympathy. Yeah. He really had to get those two together. His friend deserved to get a girl that made him sound like that.

"Sure!" he kept his voice cheerful though, Spike wouldn't appreciate knowing he was so transparent. He couldn't help adding: "Though you two are going to have to hang out together for a while without me once we get there. ShinRa secrets and all."

Behind him, he heard Cloud's steps trip over themselves for a second before righting and he grinned as he led the way to Tifa's house. He really should have figured it out about the two of them earlier. The girl next door… how obvious was that?

Confident, he knocked on the door. He'd seen her coming back about ten minutes ago so he figured she'd be ready to go. Suddenly it occurred to him that her dad might be home. If her dad was around it would ruin his plan! So when the door swung open to reveal a puzzled looking Tifa the first thing he blurted was:

"Is your dad home?"

"Um," she gave him a puzzled look. "No?"

"Oh good," he exhaled his relief and only realized how that probably sounded after she gave him another slightly odd look. He grinned.

"You look really nice," he complimented and, as he'd figured it would, it immediately sidetracked her as she blushed and stepped back, looking awkward. Zack ignored Cloud's growl behind him and stepped in through the now undefended door. Making room for Cloud as well, he put his hands on his hips and scanned the room. He was looking for something specific….

Ah! There it was!

To cover his surveillance of the room, he gave her another grin.

"Your house looks really nice too."

Standing to the side of the door, the look she gave him was vaguely confused and helpless.

"Thanks?"

"No problem. Saaaaay – you up to taking us up the mountain today?"

She brightened immediately at that, and, Zack thought, she stole a glance at the soldier standing behind him.

"Sure!" Then she faltered and reached up to touch her hair. It was damp, probably from a shower she'd taken after her training session, and she was wearing a tattered pair of short shorts and a half shirt. Zack thought it made her look softer and more approachable. Which was good 'cause Spike was going to be doing some approaching in a minute.

Even if the poor sap didn't know it yet.

"I'll go change," she said as she spun for the stairs and Zack jerked forward:

"No! I mean… not yet?" he hazarded as she turned around to give him a funny look. He rubbed the back of his head and realized he was in trouble. He's been planning on improvising a great deal of his clever plan and now things were starting to get harder than he'd thought they'd be. "Hey – what's that?"

His attempted distraction had her giving the door he was pointing at a wary look.

"The closet…" she drawled slowly, eyeing him from the corners of her eyes as if wondering at his sanity.

"Can I see?"

"Um," she actually looked past him at the soldier still in the doorway as if asking what was going on. Zack didn't get Cloud's response but it was – hopefully – just a shrug and not the finger rotating by the ear that indicated 'crazy'. Spike liked him too much to do that to him. Again.

Whatever response she got, she moved over to the closet with an "oh… kay" and opened the door.

Yep. It was a closet.

Full of coats with some boots and an umbrella and a couple boxes on the top shelf.

Zack improvised.

"You think we'll need the umbrella?"

Tifa reached up and scratched her head but he suspected it was more at him than the question.

"Not really."

"I really like those boots. Spike, get over here and look at these boots." When Cloud didn't, Zack reached over with a long arm and hauled him over.

"They're mud boots," Tifa's puzzlement wasn't dissipating. "You know… to put on over your shoes during rainy season…"

"Can I see them?"

She gave him a blank look. And than that every so predictable and wonderfully manipulatable Nibelheim helpfulness kicked in despite herself and she nodded and leaned down to get them.

"Better grab the umbrella, Spiky," Zack added cheerfully and, as if catching the evil gleam in mako eyes, Cloud suddenly started to back away. Which wasn't going to do at all. SOLDIER reflexes kicked in the extra speed he needed and he grabbed Spike by the arm with one hand while he gave Tifa a shove with the other. She went into the closet with a muffled noise that didn't sound particularly ladylike – Cloud went into the closet with what sounded, internally to Zack, like a silent scream, and Zack –

…well, Zack tripped when he was using his momentum to toss Cloud in the closet and fell in too. The door shut with a defining thud.

For a second it was completely dark and completely silent.

Then he got an elbow in the ribs. A _hard _elbow in the ribs.

"Open the damn door," Cloud's hiss sounded suspiciously like a growl and from the other side of Spike Tifa made a hiccupping sound. Zack blinked a few times and, thanks to his mako enhanced vision, saw why.

She was in Spiky's arms.

Well, kinda. Cloud had apparently caught her when they'd both tumbled and while he had one hand braced against the wall in an attempt to kept their tangled legs from toppling them over, his other arm was most definitely around the brunette's bare waist and, if Zack did say so himself, seemed to be holding her a lot closer against himself than was absolutely necessary. What really made Zack grin though was the fact that both of her arms were around Cloud's shoulders and her fingers were digging into the fabric of his uniform shirt. Sure, it was for balance but the point was – they were hugging!

Yes! Plan Zack was a success!

The second he let them out of here however, he was pretty sure they'd jump apart like they were on fire. That wasn't going to do at all. Reaching out he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and –

"Oops," the sound of metal breaking was audible. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

Then he shifted, trying to duck down a little because the bar everything was hung on kept whacking him.

"Zaaack," Cloud's voice was so low it would have been hard to hear the name past the rumbling growl if it wasn't for the way his friend enunciated each letter so thoroughly.

He should really tell the blond not to growl because it tended to scare women… except he noticed that their guide's long fingers were moving and tightening just a little bit on his friend's shirt. Score, Spiky!

"Looks like we're stuck," Zack informed the two 'soon to be, Zack instigated' lovers. He could actually hear Cloud's exhale. He hoped his friend was appreciating the way a woman fresh out of the shower smelled. He could pick it up from here and it was a nice smell. Something warm and soft and refreshing.

Aerith usually smelled like flowers. He shut his eyes briefly. Flowers and the way a morning smelled when you were out in the field and everything was nice and fresh and brand new…

"-break the door."

Cloud's threatening voice snapped him back to the present and he opened his eyes.

"What?"

"I said," Cloud was still talking in a hiss and Zack finally realized it was so that the woman in his arms wouldn't recognize his voice. "Why don't you break the door down?"

It was a sign, as far as Zack was concerned, on the tension brewing between the two in the closet with him when Tifa didn't protest the destruction of a part of her house.

He also didn't hear her agree.

He narrowed his eyes and shifted. Since he could see, and they couldn't, he leaned a little. It pushed Cloud forward. Which pushed him into Tifa more. She made another soft sound and Zack didn't think it was the protesting kind.

"Zack," the way Cloud said the name indicated a long, bloody and painful death in his sleep tonight for the SOLDIER. But he also planted his feet and hitched Tifa up a little bit. Zack snuck a glance down and saw she was on her toes, bare legs tangled up with Cloud's.

Putting the moves on the girl in the dark… oh yeah. Zack had known this was a genius idea.

"Can't." He gave a verbal shrug with his voice. "That's destroying private property. ShinRa regs say company employees are supposed to respect civilian property unless otherwise instructed."

Cloud was just in the process of hissing something that sounded particularly vile and had Zack wondering in awe where he'd learned a word like that when the sound of the front door slamming shut was distinctly heard through the wood of the closet. All of them froze.

"Tifa?"

Zack recognized the voice of Mr. Lockhart and his heart dropped a little. This had been going so well too. Before he could even decide that he wasn't going to be the one to call out and give them away though, he felt Tifa's hand scrambling against his shoulder.

"Don't!" She whispered it so soft, his mako hearing was all that picked it up but the absolute panic and desperation in it was obvious. He looked at her in surprise to see that she'd somehow managed to get her hand past Cloud's scarf and over his mouth and that her eyes were wide in the pitch black and she was shaking her head even though Zack was the only one that could see it. "Please, don't!"

"Tifa?" her father's voice called it again, louder this time, and all three of the conspirators in the closet held their breath.

"That kid," Mr. Lockhart's voice was more level when he heard no answer. "Leaving the front door open. And when we've got ShinRa in town too."

Heavy steps retreated to another part of the house and Zack actually heard Tifa's exhale of relief. He looked to see she'd dropped her head onto Spiky's shoulder but still had her hand over his mouth.

His friend SO owed him big time for this!

They all jerked stiff again when the sound of boot steps came back. It seemed to take forever for them to cross the hall and reach the front door. Which opened and then closed again. Everyone waited but there was no sound of steps back into the house. Tifa made a noise of relief this time when she sagged back into Cloud. Not that Zack minded if it bought his friend some extra snuggle time but –

"Uh… Teef?"

"Can you imagine what my dad would think if he found me in the closet with a guy? With _two _guys?" her voice held the edge of horror. "He already thinks I'm too wild because I do martial arts instead of quilting. He'd freak if he found me this way!"

Zack chuckled.

"Daddy's little girl?" he teased in amusement and she lifted her chin from Cloud's shoulder to stick her tongue out at him in the dark. Cloud however muttered:

"You're not that kind of girl," sounding almost angry and definitely defensive.

Awwww, Spiky was feeling protective over his girl's reputation. Aerith was so going to smother him with 'aren't you adorable' hugs when she heard this story….

"Of course not," Tifa mumbled, letting go of Zack's shoulder and, to Zack's horror, starting to untangle herself from Cloud. To his credit, Spiky wasn't helping - but he wasn't hindering either.

"Woops!" Zack jostled them both, almost knocking them over and definitely into the coats. Cloud grunted – and caught Tifa close to keep her upright. Tifa however, let out a surprised:

"Ow!"

"Teef?" Zack was suddenly worried but he saw her wave the hand that had found it's way back to Cloud's shoulder again.

"No. It's okay."

"It was my helmet," Cloud's low mutter sounded guilty and ashamed. Zack was opening his mouth to say it when Tifa's quiet, almost shy voice beat him to it.

"Why don't you take it off?"

For a second, everyone in the closet forgot to breathe again.

'Come on, Spiky', Zack silently urged, knowing enough to keep his mouth shut. 'Do it for your girl.'

Cloud didn't move and Zack was getting ready to reach up and pop him on the back of his metal clad head when, again, Tifa beat him to the punch. Very slowly her fingers worked their way from where they'd settled on his shoulder around to where the strap that held the helmet in place was. She was doing it in the dark, without sight for her, and Zack could only imagine what the feel of those barely there, searching fingers on him were doing to Spike.

He also noticed she knew where to search for the strap… which meant she'd been paying attention sometime before.

The strap came loose and even Zack could feel the way Cloud swallowed. Carefully searching again, Tifa's fingers found the top of the helmet and wrapped around it as they pushed it back. The metal dropped to land with a muffled sound on the boots on the floor. Zack forgot to breathe as Tifa's hand returned and, very lightly, ruffled the hair at the back of Cloud's exposed neck.

"See?" she whispered and Zack swore she'd forgotten there was anyone in the closet but her and the man holding her. "Isn't that better?"

Cloud made a soft sound and nodded, even though she'd feel it but not see it in the dark. Zack knew he'd been utterly forgotten and, even though his neck was starting to get stiff from ducking the damn coat bar, he made sure he didn't move and remind them. Tifa made a soft sound of her own, though hers was throatier, and settled her cheek against Cloud's shoulder again, arms winding around him.

"So, it's okay… right?" she asked hesitantly and again, Cloud nodded, his cheek brushing against her hair. She made a pleased sound. And then, almost surprised into cheering, Zack watched as Cloud very carefully turned them both around, sheltering the back of her head with a hand as he shifted to rest his back and shoulders against the wall and the piled coats, other arm holding her against him so that she rested in the slight incline of his body. In the dark, his eyes were only on her, despite the fact he couldn't see a thing. Zack felt almost awkward at the look on his friend's face as he 'looked' down at the woman he'd always adored nestled trustingly in the cradle of his body.

Zack was surprised to find that it didn't remind him of him and Aerith. Not that it was better or worse. It was just… different. Zack thought that was probably okay. He liked what he had with Aerith. He more than liked it. Cloud deserved his own thing when it came to the woman he was in love with.

Zack was still going to see if he could get a double date out of this when it was over.

Cloud's hand stroked gently over Tifa's hair as he held her. She seemed perfectly content to stay that way.

If he'd had more room, Zack would have attempted to pat himself on the back for an awesome job. He was the best friend in the whole world! Content with himself, he tried to cross his arms over his chest and accidentally whacked on of them on the wall. Cloud's blue eyes flickered up in the dark.

"I don't suppose you remembered to bring your PHS so we can call somebody to come get us?" he asked in a whisper. For some reason they were all whispering. It just seemed suitable for the situation. Zack's face suddenly fell as he realized he did have his PHS on him. He always had his PHS on him and Cloud knew it. Spike, who couldn't see him, was still doing a pretty good job of looking at him levelly. Zack was about to admit defeat when he realized… Cloud was _looking_ at him. Not literally but there was definitely a look in those blue eyes. Zack's jaw dropped open and he actually put a hand to his mouth in shock at what those eyes were saying over the top of Tifa's dark hair. Then he started to grin. Way too cheerfully, he answered:

"Nope. Totally left it in the room."

Cloud made a noise that was probably supposed to sound disappointed but the look on his face disagreed even though he was doing a good job of repressing it. In his arms, Tifa made a soft sound and surreptitiously snuggled in closer and Zack watched Cloud forget Zack was in the area again as his face softened and went hopeless and fulfilled at the same time.

After that it was just a matter of trying to find a way to stand there comfortably without disturbing the two snuggling in each other's arms across from him. He couldn't put his hands behind his head like he wanted to and he couldn't stand up all the way because the shelf of the closet was too low. He couldn't do squats to burn off the excessive energy. Now he knew why, in all the 'closet' stories he'd read, the friend/friends were always careful not to get locked in with the two romantic leads. There was really nothing to do and it wasn't like he could start up a conversation to entertain himself. He couldn't even call Aerith because he wasn't supposed to have his PHS on him. He tried to scratch the back of his head and banged his elbow again. Both Cloud and Tifa ignored him.

At least they were behaving themselves. Some of the closet stories he'd read got kind of steamy and that would have just been downright awkward.

Zack was just realizing that he was starting to get hungry and he hadn't thought to bring a snack when the sound of a whistle whispered faintly through the door. He recognized it because it blew about an hour before sunset each day. Tifa had told him it was a left over from when the people from Nibelheim had used to actually work at the reactor before it had been shut down years ago. Both Tifa and Cloud stirred at it and Tifa slowly straightened. Just a little, Zack noticed. She certainly wasn't pulling out of Cloud's arms in the least.

"I need to start making dinner. Daddy will worry if I'm not around by the time he gets home."

"I really don't want to break your door," Zack said even though he figured it was about time to get them out of there. She made a little sound that sounded, suspiciously like laughter.

"You could just take the pins out of the hinges and open the door that way." There was definite amusement in her whisper. Zack's eyes popped wide and he stared at her in shock. Cloud had gone a shocked still. In the dark, Zack watched her cheeks flush and she ducked her chin.

"I mean, thinking about it, I just realized, just now, that, you know, something like that would probably work. If we tried it, I mean." She raised eyes in the dark toward where she knew Zack was and, to him, they didn't look repentant. He started to grin.

Oh… Spike SO owed him!

And Tifa was SO cool!

"Yeah," he pretended to give it some thought. "That would probably work. But since I'm the only one that can see in the dark, maybe you and Spike should squeeze over into this corner so I can do that. It's going to be tight," he warned

In the dark, he watched both Tifa and Cloud pressing their mouths tightly closed, fighting, apparently hard, not to grin or laugh. Cloud was the one that ended up making the calm sound of understanding.

It took some doing but soon enough Spiky and his girl were wound tightly together in the opposite corner, with Tifa pressed between Cloud and the wall this time, and Zack was squatting down. The pins in the hinges were easy to take out but he fumbled with them and took his time anyway. He didn't hear any complaints.

He was working the last one sloooowly free when he heard noise behind him and shot a look over his shoulder to see Cloud half leaned over and fumbling around for his dropped helmet.

'Aw, no, Spiky,' he wanted to protest. 'She's already yours, man. No way a girl that snuggles you like that is gonna hold it against you – long – for not telling her who you are. Teef's cooler than that.'

Cloud lifted the helmet clear and straightened though and the look on his face was determined. Tangled up with Tifa the way he was though, she must have realized what he was doing and her hands fluttered in the darkness until fingertips found metal. They tapped experimentally over it and Cloud paused in lifting it. Actually hesitating when Zack had never seen him break off of his chosen course before for anyone or anything when he had that look in his eyes. In the dark, Tifa lifted her face to his and the look in her eyes was stricken and pleading. But Cloud couldn't see it and his own head was bowed and defeated looking.

Those two were going to break his heart, Zack thought, and he was just in the process of shifting over to 'accidentally' nudge them closer together when – again – Tifa was faster.

Light, fingers searching, one of her hands left the helmet and felt their way up Cloud's chest and throat to find his face. Feather light, shy, her palm found his cheek and settled there for a minute. In the dark, Cloud's eyes shut and the breath left him silently. Tifa's lips twisted, sad and wry, but they smiled just a little too. Zack watched determination settle over her face and thought… she looked a lot like Spike when she did that. Tender, she nudged Cloud's chin up and then gave the helmet a nudge with her other hand. Permission?

Absolution?

Cloud's face changed and his shoulders lost the droop they'd acquired when he'd reached for the helmet. Tifa must have felt it because her lips smiled again and it was softer and less hurt this time. When Cloud pulled on his helmet, it was Tifa's slender fingers that searched for and found the strap, buckling it back into place slowly.

Like a woman helping a warrior of old put on his armor before she sent him into battle, Zack thought…

Cloud's hand found her fingers after she'd done so and, shy but sure, he raised them to his lips. Zack, waiting for a kiss, was surprised when he instead gently blew against the tips but it made Tifa's face soften and fill with light at the same time. Zack didn't get it – but he did get that things were okay now.

Weird. But okay.

He popped the last pin free and, sure enough, the door lifted easily free, leaving them all blinking in the setting light coming in the windows of the house.

Tifa walked them to the door and Zack sheepishly handed the broken doorknob to her.

"I'll get you another one."

She shook her head.

"Don't. I – " she hesitated and then, looking down and yet smiling, said: "I kind of like this one."

It made Zack grin and he slung an arm around Spike's shoulders. Who hadn't, the entire time, been able to look away from the mountain guide.

"Cool!" Zack was pleased. He let go of Cloud long enough to stretch and then opened the door.

"So, Teef – " he grinned at her. "You think you can take us up the mountain tomorrow?"


	2. Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the prompt was 'he'd have to make sure he kept his hands to himself'. We'll see how well Cloud did at that... Set at the beginning of the game, right before Kalm.

There was too much skin.

There was _really _too much skin.

The clothes Tifa usually wore showed off skin. A lot of skin. But there was something about the splashes of red – the scarred leather of the gloves, the drying blood red of the steel toed shoes – that warned a body to back off. That the skin wasn't for touching, that there was an enforced, invisible armor backed by those dangerous washes of red that would retaliate if the distance between safety and that pale, soft looking skin was ever breached. He remembered that his mother had told him red was always a sign to stop, of danger, and that was why so many of the snakes and insects and berries around the mountain wore it. Red was to warn you off, to tell you to keep your distance or you'd regret it.

So Cloud understood the message behind the red that Tifa wore. He respected that message on an almost subconscious level.

Stop. Don't touch. Go away.

Except she wasn't wearing red now…

Now, by moonlight, there was only black and white and silver. On her clothes, in her hair. Against her skin…

He'd woken up for watch to find her gone and Barret wearing a scowl and watching a single direction instead of the entire camp.

It was lousy soldier work and so he'd let the older man suck it up and stay up watch longer while he went in that direction. Not at all surprised to find Tifa but a little puzzled to find her kneeling by a small, cold stream they'd gotten their cooking water from not that many hours ago.

It was obvious she'd taken off her shoes to soak her feet. Their warning red was crouched nearby, socks neatly folded over the tops of her boots and for the first time he realized she wasn't used to walking for miles each day. That none of the others were and he realized with a sudden bolt that it hadn't occurred to him to worry about their feet and blisters and aching muscles the way it should have. Getting away from Midgar, reaching Kalm, had seemed more important.

He'd been a bad team leader and the way it twisted his gut was more than it merited, he knew. It didn't stop that knowledge, that he'd failed them, let them suffer through his own carelessness, from sending a clammy clench down through his gut of guilt.

He was supposed to take care of them.

He was supposed to take care of her…

But she wasn't soaking her feet now. Instead she was on her knees in front of the stream and he could see the muscles moving in her arms as she worked with almost manic determination. Scrubbing again and again a white ball of cloth before dunking it silently into the water and then pulling it out to wring it clear and then begin all over again. Eventually he realized it was her shirt and his brows came down even more as he watched her scrub it fiercely together and then rinse it only to begin the entire process all over again.

He hadn't realized she was wearing only her sports bra. It covered almost as much as the shirt had.

His focus was good. The skin of her hands was going red with the bite of the water and the silent fury of her washing.

Red.

Stop.

Don't proceed.

It was the only bit of red in her now. Her lips and her eyes were both washed to softer, quieter colors in the moonlight and he responded to it, stepping out from the treeline.

Her eyes snapped around, narrowing as her hand clenched but she relaxed in her spin, facing him but no longer defensive. It didn't matter. Her fists weren't red and he didn't pick up on their warning. He was caught instead by the fact there was water in her eyes and sprinkled across her cheeks. She reached up and the back of her hand smeared the drops, spreading ice water across her already pale cheeks and she gave him what she probably thought was a small smile. It was actually a heart broken, lost one and he recognized those better than he recognized happy or hopeful smiles.

He said her name and she sniffed and the smile stayed. The cheek got another scrub but the action didn't pull any color into the paleness of it.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Is it my watch? I was just – " her hand with the soaked shirt waved weakly and her face threatened to fall apart in front of him. Silent he watched her pull herself together, heard the shaky exhale in the silent night air.

"It smelled like smoke."

She tried to state it calmly but her voice broke on the last part and her face followed. And he finally understood.

Smoke. Because the air had smelled like smoke, a clogging, sick, oily kind of sickening smoke when the Plate dropped on Sector Seven. That foul stench of burned metal and broken bodies, of blood in the air and fires burning under fallen concrete and asphalt, it had soaked everything immediately afterward. Them too, he guessed, though he hadn't paid attention to it at the time.

Hadn't paid attention to anything but rescuing the girl that ShinRa had. Knowing, somehow, that no one should be left in ShinRa's 'gentle' care for any amount of time or something terrible, something he couldn't understand but that left his stomach cold and rotten feeling, would happen to them. Something irreversible.

He'd missed the way the smoke of a destroyed city had clung to them even as they'd climbed above it.

Tifa hadn't.

She's smelled it the whole time. Through labs and prison cells and posh executive offices. Through grasslands and moonlight night.

Maybe she could still smell it…

He stepped forward but she'd already hunched into herself, drawing her knees up protectively in front of her, arms around them, face hidden behind the careful barriers of her own flesh and blood and bone. She was all skin then. Fresh and soft and sweet looking in the moonlight.

He didn't hurt. Not the way the rest of them did. He hadn't known Biggs and Jessie and Wedge like Tifa and Barret had. He hadn't found a home in one of the crushed buildings or found out the name of the gossip loving woman who lived a few doors down from the bar. He was ex-SOLDIER. He was stronger than broken emotions or pain over people he hadn't promised, hadn't been paid, to protect. People died in wars and this was a war against the most powerful corporation in the world. He was too tough to let something like that affect him. Too strong.

Except when she crumpled, when he had to face what had happened instead of what was happening – all he wanted to do was touch that soft skin of hers and forget. He wanted the rest of the world to go away and he wanted to remember only how soft she was and how warm she would be.

Ex-SOLDIERs didn't fall apart and they didn't need to hide themselves in someone else's comfort. They _were_ the comfort.

Or at least the rock for everyone else to rest against and stay safe in the shelter of.

He'd have to make sure he kept his hands to himself.

That was going to be hard to do though, because she was still curled into herself and he was on his knee next to her before he really thought about it. Face buried, voice muffled and broken, he heard her apologies. Apologies for bothering him, for being this way. He didn't want her apologies though. He _wanted_ to be there for her. Wanted her to fall apart for him, to know that she could and it was alright. That he would hold and protect her. That he would catch her and keep her together.

He needed to do that for her. Needed to be able to be there for someone that mattered…

Except he didn't know what to do. What he _wanted_ to do was take her in his arms. But they weren't close that way. He hadn't earned the right to cradle her body close to his, not yet. And he couldn't touch her right until he had because – because he was pretty sure that the need to touch her was weakness on his part.

Because he needed to touch her all the time – and it was strongest when he was feeling unsure or weak or lost. She needed someone better than that though and so until he was, until he was sure he was, he wouldn't let himself give in to the need to clutch her close and hang on as if he was afraid of losing her at any moment.

Real men weren't that way. Real men were never afraid or unsure. He'd be a real man. For himself – and because it was what she deserved.

A _real_ man.

Keeping his touch gentle, aware of his exaggerated strength, he pressed one hand to her bare shoulder and the other to her knee. The leather of his gloves protected him from the worse of it but he could still feel her warmth and the give of her flesh through the material. Too soft. Too sweet. Face expressionless to combat it, he continued to gently push, slowly prying her open from the clam like way she'd closed over.

She let him. It was obvious she'd rather not. But she still let him. And her eyes went wide and confused when her shifting to a sitting position didn't stop the steady pressure of his hands.

"Cloud - ?"

There was something about her voice like that when it was lost and yet trusting that tore right through the middle of him and left a gaping wound there but he simply kept his face emotionless to deal with it and continued to push.

Anyone else would have fought him.

Tifa, hesitant, chin tucking defensively, still let him push her down until she was lying flat on the ground.

She didn't repeat the question of his name but it was in her dark, moonlight filled eyes as they looked up at him. Careful, not about to try to explain what he couldn't understand himself, he gently pried the small sliver of soap she had left out of the hand that wasn't still knotted in the fabric of her abused, soaking shirt. And then, very carefully, very, very intent, concentrating because this was so much more important than hitting the right button or measuring guard movements or picking the right air vent to crawl through, he took the ribbon out of her hair and carefully set it to the side before lifting the thick weight of her dark hair and setting it in the water.

The little gasp she gave would haunt his more heated dreams, he knew, but he pretended he didn't hear it, busy making sure her hair got wet almost all the way to her scalp. Then, still concentrating hard, he rubbed the soap between his fingers until it lathered. Sure about what he was doing now, he gently worked it into the thick tresses of hair he lifted out of the water. Her wide, confused eyes didn't leave his face and he didn't let anything show there for her to see, instead focusing his attention on that thick hair.

It slide between his fingers like silk, wet and gleaming, so long he couldn't imagine how she kept it so smooth and soft looking all the time. It tangled around his fingers, the bare skin of his forearms as he worked and he knew that that sensation too would go into the dark dreams of silk and liquid and soft cries that sometimes sounded like his name and sometimes sounded lost and far away. Careful to keep strands from tangling in the metal of his bracer, he was determinedly thorough, working the lather through all her hair, even to her scalp, rubbing against her skin there, careful to keep it from dripping into her eyes or her ears. Those dark eyes that slipped closed against her will as he rubbed gently and the bolt of sheer pride it fed his ego was enough to keep him going for weeks.

The way her shoulders and face and fingers relaxed as he kept working fed something softer and quieter inside his soul and stopped the constant ache for a little while. An hour, a night, it was longer than he'd felt that peace in all his remembered life. Despite himself it made his own lips soften and the very edges of them, hidden from her by her closed eyelids, curved. Between his fingers, her hair was slick and the color of warmth and home and soft, golden light on polished wood counters. Her breathing steadied and then slowly relaxed.

Very careful, because it was more precious and important to him than anything else in the world felt, he rinsed her hair clean of the soap. Washing away the smell of smoke, washing away the taint of ShinRa air. She deserved mountain streams and clear water and forever skies that stretched away into perfect mornings and endless dawns. He couldn't give her those – but he could take away the bad things at least.

He wanted to take them away forever for her.

Eventually her hair was clean and the water ran clear again and he had only let himself stall just a little. She had a lot of hair though and of course it would take time to make sure it was all ready for her again. His hand at her shoulder was a nudge and she sat up slowly in response as he shifted, wringing the hair carefully. Not wanting to leave wet strands against her pale skin to make her cold. He didn't have a towel to dry it with and he promised himself that next time she needed him he'd be better prepared. Instead he braided it, a surprisingly easy thing for his fingers to remember doing and he felt the vague flash of a memory of his mother letting him braid her hair because he'd wanted to help her.

Ex-SOLDIERs didn't braid hair though. Or admit they knew how to do it. His fingers fumbled suddenly, forgetting the pattern they'd been weaving. Fumbling, he gave up for fear of messing things up, and awkwardly handed the rest of the loose hair to her over her shoulder. He didn't want to see her face or the look in her eyes and so he stood up and casually brushed off the knees of his pants. The way she murmured his name was soft and a question and did something funny to his stomach all the way down to his toes. He shrugged in answer and shook his head. Tough ex-SOLDIERs didn't fumble around pretty girls – girls that meant the entire world to them – but at the moment, he couldn't seem to think of what they did do. So instead, he straightened up and shook his hands, leather soaked through. Still without looking – still not wanting to see whatever was in her eyes or on her face because it would crush him he was sure, he turned and headed back the way he'd come, making sure to keep his stride confident and careless.

It was just a hair washing. No big deal. Nothing to make a fuss over.

Just fodder for dreams of silk and sighs in his sleep from now until the end of his life.

She spoke just as he hit the tree line though and it wasn't the words that put the stutter in his step and the flutter in his hollow chest so much as the way her rich, soft voice said them.

"Thank you… Cloud…"

It was going to be harder tomorrow, than it had been today, to keep his hands to himself.


	3. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bringing over another of my shorts from ff.net and I now realize that some of these won't exactly make sense for people that have only played the remake. So I guess this has some hints at spoilers for things the player finds out after Midgar. Anyway, set at the arrival in Kalm with a Cloud that's more OG than remake (he's too sweet in the remake for this Cloud (which is not saying I don't adore his new sweetness in the remake). Anyway, let's have some Tifa whump. And if you'd like to read Cloud's POV of this story head on over to [Hero by SorrowsFlower](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5907847/1/Hero). Its been quite a while but I bet they'd love to get some reviews on it!

It was dark and she felt rain on her back. Except it was warm rain and she'd never felt warm rain before. She had her eyes closed but she didn't want to open them. The warm rain trickled down to flow in a stream down the canyon of her chest and she suddenly realized it wasn't rain. It was blood.

Her blood.

She jerked upright with a gasp, covering her chest with her arms and then coughed, twitching away in surprise from the water that fell on her face. Warm water.

Porcelain under her.

Shower.

Oh!

oh, yes…

She was in a shower at an inn.

She muffled her tired laughter at herself and struggled to get off of her knees where she'd been resting under the hot water when she'd fallen asleep. Her hair was hanging across her like black satin ribbons and clung to her skin as she moved. It was a good thing she'd been using the shower and not the tub, she thought with wry tiredness. She could just see it now:

'Tifa Lockhart: dead at 20. Someone really should have reminded her to pull the plug before she fell asleep.'

Cloud would have found it amusing.

Maybe.

Her leg twitched a little bit under her as she stood up and she looked down to see a nasty looking gash down the outside of her thigh. She'd lost track of where she'd picked it up or which monster it had been that had given her that particular wound. They'd been fighting so many monsters since they'd gotten out of Midgar. She'd thought she was in shape but hiking halfway across the continent and running into creatures she'd never even seen before but that all seemed intent on eating them was taking its toll on her. She'd pull it together in a couple of days once her body adjusted to the difference, she knew that, but in the meantime she was going to be a little sore and a little banged up. Gingerly, she touched the area around the gash and tried to get a good look at the damage without getting _too_ good of a look.

She couldn't stand the sight of cut skin.

Bruised, broken, torn… sure. Give her broken bones and dislocated joints over the simple sight of skin that had been cleanly sliced open. She couldn't even cook poultry because the pink flesh parted too easily under her kitchen knife and looked too… It just looked too. Her hand rubbed firmly between her breasts at the runched scar tissue there and she frowned unconsciously to herself before she reached out and turned off the water.

They were supposed to be meeting the others here, in Kalm. They needed to decide what to do next, where to go. She felt so adrift. Sector Seven had been dirty and small and crowded and not always safe… but it had taken her in when she'd needed it the most. It had become her home over the years. Now she'd lost it. Again… she'd lost her home, her entire world, again.

_almost…_

It was a traitorous whisper and she shook her head at it. The violent movement almost made her lose her balance and she reminded herself she was tired and shouldn't be making quick movements on slippery surfaces. Especially naked. The last thing she wanted was one of the guys having to rush in here to save her from a cracked head while she was naked. The thought made her smile wryly as she carefully dried herself off. Fully aware that most men would jump at the chance – and that her two companions on this journey would react with shock and horror instead. Barrett was under the impression that she was his little girl and Cloud –

Cloud…

The one part of her world that always survived even when she didn't think it had. The one part of _home_ that kept coming back to her.

Even if he didn't mean to.

or necessarily even want to…

She pulled on her only other pair of clean clothes and started brushing out her hair. Everything she owned in the world was in the little backpack sitting on the closed toilet lid. It reminded her, again, of the fact this wasn't the first time she'd been homeless. With a grunt more at the way it made her muscles twitch than at the light weight of it, she hefted the backpack over her shoulder and got ready to go out and find where the others had gotten off to. She didn't have to think about the past or what she'd lost when there were other people around for her to worry over instead.

Between Barrett's emotionalism and Cloud's complete lack of the same, Tifa had plenty to distract her from her own worries and fears and heartaches.

Something tickled at her leg and she jumped thinking it was a bug. It was only a stream of blood though, bright and red, and she watched it in calm fascination as it finished its journey down her pale leg and made a little spot of red on the tile. More drops, like little birds following their mother, followed that first red path down and Tifa shook her head at herself and reached for the towel to wipe it away. It was that cut on her leg she didn't want to look at too closely. She pressed the towel to it and looked around.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't as if she was bleeding to death or anything. Now that she had pressure on it, it hurt but so did the rest of her with dozens of tired aches and sharp little pains. It certainly wasn't going to kill her. She should find one of the guys and have them fix it with materia or something. Except… she didn't want to deal with Barrett at the moment. He was so… loud… sometimes. She loved him for it but sometimes she just wanted quiet.

And she couldn't ask Cloud because… well, she just couldn't.

Listening, she didn't hear anything at the door and so she pushed it open and peeked out, still bent a little bit over to keep the towel on her leg. Nobody was there and the door to their rented out room was just across the hall and open. She thought that probably meant no one was in it yet.

There'd be beds in there. Nice, soft, real beds with soft blankets and softer pillows. It made up her mind for her and she straightened up, towel still over her cut and walked into the room.

No one was there and she felt her shoulders relax as her mind hazily registered how good the room smelled, so nice and clean. She left the door open so that the others would know it was okay to come wake her up when they got there. The room had three beds and she picked the one farthest from the door and closest to the window. She liked the sight of green through it. It reassured her and made her heart feel a little bit better.

She'd missed green, all those years living in the slums.

Dropping her pack next to the bed along with her socks and shoes, she pulled back the blankets and sat down. Her body threw a little party all on its own it felt so good and she smiled hazily to herself. Yeah, she'd definitely made the right call. She'd take care of her leg after she woke up. Everyone would probably be here by then anyway. If running a bar had taught her anything it was to sleep when you could. Aeris could help her with her cut when the other woman arrived. Aeris with her friendly green eyes and her unbruised knuckles. Tifa envied her and liked her at the same time.

It would be so nice to be a damsel in distress sometimes herself, she thought as she clumsily wrapped the towel around her leg so she wouldn't bleed on the nice clean sheets and snuggled down on her side facing the window. Nice to have someone else take care of her for a change and play 'hero'.

She'd had a hero once… but it looked like he'd decided to play that role for someone else now…

She turned her face into the pillow as she hunched down under the blankets and told herself she was just tired and that's why her chest felt so empty and her eyes felt so hot. Her mind was kind enough to shut up and let her fall into an exhausted sleep.

In her dreams the breeze outside the window became the wind through rotting rope and wood stretched out too far over mountain chasms. She heard the rope break and the fall seemed to go on forever.

"Tifa."

The voice was flat and emotionless and the hand that shook her shoulder lightly didn't convince her that waking up would be so grand either. She'd lived too long waking up to take care of other people though and she blinked groggy eyes open anyway.

"Let her sleep, Cloud. She's obviously exhausted," the soft, feminine voice was chiding and in response the figure next to her grunted.

"She can go back to sleep after we've talked." Her shoulder got another surprisingly light shake from the flat voice. "Come on, Tifa. You need to wake up now."

She exhaled and batted the unhelpful hand away but the figure attached to it stayed in the light that was now oil lamp induced and on the other side of her. Outside the window was dark.

"I'm up," she murmured, voice throaty. Saying it so that he'd leave instead of standing there because he obviously didn't think she'd actually get up. When had she ever not done what was needed? She sat up, starting to swing her legs over the side of the bed - and sucked in a sudden inhale and grit her teeth.

Her leg. She'd forgotten about her leg and the gash on it took her movement as its signal to remind her – forcefully – that it was there. She reached down automatically and clamped her hand over it.

The blanket was tossed off of her so unexpectedly that it startled her and jerked her entirely awake. She saw a blaze of electric blue and heard an angry sound made low in the throat in front of her. Then he spoke.

"Out." It was Cloud's controlled voice, an order, not a request. Her eyes went wide and flew up to look at him. He sounded…. under the calm control he sounded angry.

No.

He sounded _furious_.

It made her throat go suddenly tight in response and she shifted to get off the bed, not wanting to be here in the unexpected face of his fury. His hand landed heavily on her shoulder, holding her down.

"Not you," he clarified and the fury wasn't there in the emotionless voice. "Everyone else. Out. Now."

Barrett protested to Tifa's relief. But then he went. Everyone went. Simply because Cloud had ordered them to. They left the room and even shut the door behind them and left her all alone with a man she didn't know.

A really, really angry man she didn't know.

His hand left her shoulder and he strode over to the bed next to hers, carelessly tossing a bread roll he'd had in his hand onto the other bed before flipping open his pack and rummaging inside. He did it calmly, with an expressionless face in the gold light from the oil lamps that hung on the wall. And yet… she could tell he was furious.

She didn't know what he would do when he was angry.

She'd never seen him angry before. Not like this. Compared to this, his snarls at Barrett were nothing but amusements to pass his time.

It scared her because she didn't know what to expect from him when he was this way. She should. He was Cloud. She should know how he acted when he was angry. But…she didn't. Because… he didn't act the way her heart was always telling her he should.

She didn't want to face him sitting down, especially not on a bed, but she didn't want to move and stand up because it might attract his attention. Carefully, she slid her legs off the bed so she was sitting on the edge of it.

She wasn't scared of him so much as… simply scared.

"What's going – " she looked down at her bed and realized that she'd bled through the towel or it had come loose. It wasn't horrifying but it had left smears on the white of the sheets, probably from when she'd shifted as she slept and she felt suddenly guilty. She'd gotten someone else's things dirty. She started to shift and his hand suddenly clamped down hard on the top of her good thigh as he appeared in front of her again.

She made a noise, eyes going wide and both of her hands wrapped around his wrist on that hand. Because… it burned.

The leather of his glove that high up on her exposed thigh made her skin burn. Burn in a not entirely unpleasant way and she might not know a lot but she knew enough to realize how very dangerous that was for her heart.

"Cloud – " she shifted, trying to get out from under the way his fingers were searing a permanent memory of their feel into her skin and those same fingers tightened as she moved. Keeping her from escaping.

"Were you just going to bleed out while you slept?" his voice was rough and the anger was sharp in it. Had she ever thought he was emotionless? How could she have been so wrong? He wrapped the fingers on his other hand around the back of her knee on her hurt side and it sent something horrible and wonderful and dangerous straight up into the core of her. One of her hands flew automatically to spread against his shoulder. As if she would keep him away.

"No -!" she protested it quickly. Protesting his words or maybe just the fact that his touch meant too much to her. So much more than it should or that she should ever let it. She knew that already. These past few weeks had taught her to be wary of what his eyes as well as his physical proximity could do to her. She wasn't used to that and she certainly wasn't used to what he was doing now. Men didn't treat her this way. They either treated her as if she was an untouchable angel or the town slut. Either way she shied away from letting them touch her. This… she wasn't at all used to being manhandled as if someone had a right to. And he was certainly touching her now as if it was his unquestioned right.

Cloud, blue eyes mostly hidden under the fringe of his blond hair, went to his knees in front of her. She went bright red as she realized how compromising that looked - how compromising it felt – and slapped her hand down on the fabric of her skirt in automatic response. Cloud, the way only Cloud could, didn't seem to realize it as he held her leg steady with the fingers crooked behind the back of her knee and started to unwrap the towel with his other hand. It was a relief to have his hand off her other thigh but compared to the rest of what he was doing to her, it was only a little drop of water against the fire. She left her hand braced against his shoulder.

"It's nothing. Just a cut – " she squirmed a little, trying to get away because he was too close and too intent and too warm and too… too male. His eyes narrowed in response and he didn't say anything. But, she thought, he leaned a bit closer to press against her bracing hand that would have kept him at arm's length.

She could still feel the fury coming off of him in waves.

The noise escaped her before she could realize it was coming in time to stop it as the towel was carefully pried away from where it had dried, blood soaked, against her wound and his eyes flicked to her face for just a moment. That single hint of blue had been very dangerous.

"How long were you going to ignore this?" he demanded, voice low in a way that wasn't safe or reassuring at all. He slid his thumbs over the skin near it in inspection and the move had her trying to jerk her bare leg away again, prompted by a reaction that had nothing at all to do with pain.

Except maybe a surprising, sharp pain in her chest.

"Stop it. Let go – " he was angry and she was confused and feeling all kinds of strange things she'd only ever felt since he'd come back into her life and he wasn't making it easy and a part of her was glad he wasn't letting go and – "Cloud, please," she needed him to stop touching her until she'd figured out what was going on. He couldn't do this to her after she'd just woken up. She hadn't had time to brace herself against what being around him did to her. He had to stop touching her… The weakness crept into her voice despite herself. "It's nothing."

"Tifa," his golden hair hid his eyes. "You're bleeding."

And, just like that, it jerked everything to a sudden stop inside her. Made even her breath go still and silent in her lungs. Because his voice wasn't angry anymore. It was…

it sounded… hollow…

Suddenly the way he was holding her and the fact he was hiding his eyes and the tight lines around his cheeks and lips weren't aggressive. They were… vulnerable…?

scared?

Something in her heart cracked and she found herself reaching out before she realized it and jerked her hand back. He didn't move. Very carefully, barely there, she dared it again because his head was bent and his eyes weren't on her. Her fingertips found the soft spikes of his hair and rested lightly against them. He still didn't move and there were no cutting words. He'd never used cutting words with her. Only Barrett. But she was still a little afraid of them. Knowing, deep down, that if he ever did they would hurt her so much more than any blade he carried ever could. All there was in response to her touch though was the way his head bent a little bit more so that her fingers touched more of his hair and his silence. Something in her chest sighed and inexplicably relaxed as if for the first time in forever.

_Cloud…. there's my Cloud..._ it whispered.

"Cloud…" she wasn't aware that she'd sighed his name until it had already left her lips and his head bowed a little bit more. He didn't answer. Very gently, barely daring to, she stroked her fingers over his impossible hair. It felt so soft, surprising her and yet, somehow, not surprising her at all. His longer fingers curved a bit more in response but they were surprisingly soft too and when his thumb stroked over her skin again, it sent shivers of pleasure that didn't hold a sliver of fear through her.

"I'm all right," she told him, voice still a whisper. "I was going to ask someone to fix it but I was so tired. I didn't mean to scare you."

The Cloud who had haunted her bar for so many weeks now would have smirked at her. That Cloud wasn't afraid of anything and wanted to be sure the world knew it. The Cloud in front of her though just kept his head bent as his forgotten thumb kept stroking half circles along the skin of her thigh. His voice was very quiet.

"I can't – I can't see you bleeding, Tifa. I just… can't see you lying there with blood on you. Not again…"

That didn't make sense. When had he seen her bleeding before? Yes, there had been some fights but usually she was just bruised and battered. Any cuts were usually cured by the end of the fight with Cure spells. And those certainly hadn't been enough to frighten him the way the anger he'd displayed had indicated. As far as she knew, she hadn't really bled alarmingly since…

Her hand went to her chest. His eyes lifted to hers and they weren't the cold, calm blue she was so used to seeing. Instead –

instead they were everything she'd known they should be and only seen glimpses and hints of all these weeks.

"Sorry," his voice was soft. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just – " his hand caught her wrist to make her stop rubbing her knuckles over the memory ache and when he looked at her chest, for the first time since she'd hit puberty, she didn't feel like a man was staring at her breasts. In a way, she almost wished that he was. What she suspected he was really somehow seeing through the thick fabric of her top was so much more intimate than that. Except he couldn't know about the scar. She never - ever - wore shirts that would let it show and she'd certainly never told anyone about it.

"Cloud?" she asked it, uncertain, and his eyes moved back to her face. They lost some of their blue and all of their youth and vulnerability. But they didn't go cold and the emotion in them hid behind the blue instead of disappearing. She couldn't help that it made her smile a little. Hiding? She could manage hiding. Now that she knew he was still there. Gentle, stealing a moment more because she was afraid it was all she'd get as soon as they moved from their spot, she brushed some of his hair back from his face where it hung against his cheek.

"Will you take care of me? Please?" she asked softly and for just a moment, the blue was pure and rich and forever deep for her.

He didn't answer her but he bent his head and his hands shifted to cup her thigh in his palms. She shut her eyes against the way it felt but it wasn't because it felt bad or wrong. It felt right. Too right and she already knew that it was going to break her heart if she gave in to it.

His touch was gentle but sure as he examined the wound and he made a soft noise, a hum, that drew her attention away from the things he was making her feel with his touch. She opened her eyes to look at him and his face was calm and competent again as he examined her leg.

"I knew I cast Cure after our last fight." She hadn't been aware of it but if Cloud said he had than he had. Cloud was nothing if not aware of the strangely small details of what happened around and to their group. His fingers curved around her leg and he looked up at her from under his bangs.

"It looks like that last monster left one of its claw quills in you. Do you trust me to pull it out or do you want me to get Aeris?"

"You." She said it without hesitation or even thought. It was instinctive. Cloud… she trusted Cloud. More than anyone or anything. For a split second, his lips almost smiled. Then he was bending his head over her again and his light squeeze against her thigh was warning her to brace herself. She did, squinting her eyes shut and knotting her fingers in the fabric of her skirt.

Her other hand found his steady shoulder again though and this time she held on tightly to him.

She felt a tug and it hurt but she'd had a lot of things hurt worse in her lifetime. There was a strange sliding sensation and another little tug at the end that made a little noise that was as much surprise as pain slip out between her pressed lips. He held what he'd pulled out up for her to see and neither one of them found it a strange thing to do. Gingerly, she touched it. It was long and thin and almost transparent, so that her blood showed red and dark black where it had dried.

"It's not broken. We got it all out," he told her before she even thought to wonder. Mute, she nodded and he tossed it on the towel near his feet and then took the materia he'd been brought over and left by her boots in his hand and pressed it lightly into the cup in the back of her knee. It slowly grew warm between the palm of his hand and her skin. She exhaled a quiet sound and relaxed as the now familiar warmth moved through her blood stream and danced like music over the gash on her thigh.

She always felt impossibly snuggly after the warmth of a Cure spell.

Tifa forced herself to stay upright and not lean down and hug Cloud when he finished with the spell. Just because he'd showed her a little of who she'd known he was, didn't mean she got to maul him.

His hands felt very, very nice on her bare leg though…

Brows down in concentration, he slowly wiped away the left over blood that was still on her skin where the wound had once been. Very minutely, as if she wouldn't notice, he also turned her leg in his hand to check it for other cuts or bruises. She realized her hand was still on his shoulder, keeping him close.

She also realized that her other leg was snugged in against his side.

They were also very close together and the room was very warm and –

And a part of her that really shouldn't even exist thought it would be really nice to just slid down into his lap this way and snuggle close.

As soon as the thought fully registered, her eyes went wide at herself and she jerked her leg out of his hand. His blue eyes lifted, half lidded and hot and lazy looking under his lashes. They didn't look away from her. Whatever was in them, it made her mouth go dry.

"Um" she inhaled. "I'm okay now. I – thanks. I – thank you, Cloud."

He shook his head as if he was just waking up and cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he nodded and stood up. "It was nothing."

His hand patted the top of her thigh and it was meant as a friendly gesture. Except the touch seemed to linger against her skin much longer than she was sure he'd meant it to. She felt suddenly shy and unsure of what was happening again.

"Thank you anyway," she told him softer, looking away and to the side, and he nodded before leaning back down to gather up the things he'd used, wrapping the quill in the towel before he moved back to set them on his bed and put the materia away. Tifa stood up and tested her leg but it felt fine. Well, her knees felt a little weak but she knew that wasn't the wound or the materia. Cloud reached for the bread roll he'd tossed on his bed earlier and then hesitated and wiped his hand off before picking it up. He offered it casually across the bed.

"It was supposed to be for you," his voice was back to emotionless and calm. She took it and saw the bread was stuffed with ham and a type of cheese she hadn't seen since childhood. Her eyes went back to him but he was calmly stripping down her bed to bundle up the dirty sheets with the stained towel, everything about him efficient and unruffled again. Impersonal.

The secret part of her home that always found her. Even when she didn't think it would…

She reached out and took the bundled sheets from him.

"I'll go get new ones," she told him, suddenly, strangely, feeling almost comfortable with this part of him too. "I'll tell everyone else they can come back too."

"Tell Barrett if he snores again tonight I'm making him sleep in the hallway," he told her casually, without a flicker of humor, as he pulled the covers back up over the bed, tucking the blankets in with easy moves that spoke of long embedded habits. She hid her smile as she turned and started for the door.

Cloud Strife was a puzzle. For the first time, she felt as if she'd been given a corner piece.

"Tifa…"

His low voice stopped her and she turned her head to look at him. He paused and his blue eyes found her in the golden oil light.

"I want you to come to me from now on. When you get hurt."

The smile was whispering around the edges of her lips and singing in her chest. She didn't know what had just happened or even if anything was different between them than it had been before. She was probably being a fool – the way she'd noticed women seemed to become for him. She just knew, for the first time in a long time, she felt… better inside.

"Yes," she promised with a nod. "I will."


	4. Just For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lets take it back to the beginning. Original game beginning or a bit before. Back when a strange glowing eyed merc had just found his way into the life of Seventh Heaven in Midgar's Sector Seven slums and the confused barkeep who lived there.

Tifa Lockheart didn't have nightmares.

She was the comforter, the protector, the soother. She was the one that others came to when_ they_ had nightmares. When Barret woke everyone up with his yelling, Tifa was the one that let herself into the room and woke him up, fast enough to dodge flailing arms and not fully awake attempts at defense. It was Tifa's bed that Marlene would crawl into in the middle of the night… and sometimes Jessie would too, with their equally lost eyes and their need for a warm, safe presence to chase away the lingering cobwebs of nightmare that clung to their sleep mussed minds. Even Biggs and Wedge would come and find her after one of their nightmares, hunching low over the bar, eyes looking anywhere but at her while she poured them a strong drink and didn't try to make them talk about whatever had driven them into the arms of AVALANCHE in the first place.

They all had their scars. Inside and out.

Tifa just kept hers hidden better than most.

So the first night she really slept after they found a strange blond SOLDIER with eyes like blue flames and a strange cold look on a face she remembered as softer and kinder, she didn't expect to dream. She'd been up late taking care of that same stray SOLDIER for almost a week, waiting for the strange fever that wasn't a fever but that kept him up and restless and then down and shivering to break. When it finally had, when she'd been sure it wouldn't come back and he'd looked at her concern with blank impatience, she'd finally let herself give in, close the bar for the night and go to bed early.

She should have slept like a log.

She was exhausted enough.

Her mind wasn't though and it traced backward down dark familiar paths in her sleep until the roar of the fire and the smell of things burning that should never burn filled her memory and her nose. Cold eyes of green jade hunted her through the clogging smoke and there was no traction for her boots on the blood slicked cobbles of the streets. She ran from those eyes – and she ran from the burned arms that reached from ruined doorways, reminding her that she should have died there with them and there was no real escape in the end.

And, as she always did, when she woke it was soundless and motionless.

Tifa Lockheart didn't have nightmares. Or, if she did, she hid them well.

Waking up in her dark room with the outside lights shining in through the patchwork curtain, disorientated and still full of the terror of the dream, it took her a second for her mind to sort through the pitch black and gaudy light color patterns of the room to notice the pair of glowing eyes in the dark near her doorway.

Every childhood monster and fairy tale goblin came rushing back to her in an instant, freezing her in a way no ShinRa guard ever could.

And then her eyes adjusted and a figure stepped forward and she recognized:

"Cloud – "

"Tifa."

His voice was low in the dark, just as broken shadowed as the room and so much less familiar to her. In that instant she didn't recognize the man in front of her at all. She'd assured Barret he was safe – staked all their lives on it – but there was very little from her memories of childhood that matched the haughty ex-SOLDIER who'd been all but dropped on her doorstep. His silence and his stillness did nothing to soften that foreign feeling now. Sternly chiding herself, she forced herself to sit up even though every instinct in her told her to get ready to fight. So she left her hands loose on the blanket in front of herself instead.

All or nothing. She trusted him with everything – or with nothing at all. When her movements still drew no response out of him, nothing but the darker shape of a soldier in the darkness and the unblinking of his glowing eyes, she offered a smile. Knowing already that it would come out broken and weak but what else would she do?

She had to believe in something.

Wise or not, she had chosen Cloud, years ago. It just seemed like too well worn a groove for her to escape now. She had to believe in something. Not for the dark form in front of her… but for herself.

"Trouble sleeping?" she asked and watched him almost shake his head. And then pause. Glowing eyes lidded and then lifted back to her with startlingly clarity.

"You were."

"I'm fine." She lied and it was automatic and route, a habit older than she could remember.

His glowing eyes narrowed and went flat and cold. And didn't believe her.

If she hadn't been so tired she would have felt ashamed to be caught so easily. Or angry. But tonight she was just tired. Bone deep tired and so her shoulders slumped but she didn't answer those glowing eyes of blue.

With a grunt that sounded almost satisfied, he took the last two steps to her bed, passing in and out of panels of dim light and only then did it occur to her that he'd let himself into her room as if he somehow thought he had a right. That thought scattered the second he leaned down to lift up the edge of her blanket.

"What?"

"Scoot over."

"Cloud?"

When she didn't immediately comply with his instructions, he simply sat down on the edge of the bed anyway and through sheer bulk forced her to scoot over unless she wanted him laying on top of her. A part of her still running down burning, forever streets, it took her mind a long moment to realize what he was doing even if she did automatically move over in the bed. Her years of living on her own, protecting herself, were kicking in with a vengeance. He was too close and he was between her and the door, had her trapped between him and the wall, could easily stop her if she tried to scream and was the only person, for a long time, that she knew without a shadow of a doubt was stronger than her. Much stronger.

"Cloud?" She said his name again and she almost felt as if she had to remind him who he was, remind both of them, before something horrible went wrong. He didn't answer. Instead he fussed on the bed as he settled onto his back, almost picky about how he settled onto the thin, lumpy mattress that only pretended to be a bed. When he was finally done, he rested an arm behind his head and shut his eyes. The glow disappeared.

Somehow it made him even more of a stranger.

Straight backed, Tifa stayed where she was, trapped between this stranger and the wall but even more importantly, trapped by her manners and empathy. She had every right to leave – but what kind of message would that send the man next to her? That she didn't feel safe around him? That she didn't trust him? He was certainly acting as if he had every right to be a part of a very private and off limits part of her life. He was acting like he had a right to be in her bed no less and some of her memories from childhood might be naturally dim but she knew for a fact even if they had been good childhood friends they'd never been that good. Her father had drilled her very carefully and thoroughly on what was 'proper' and sharing a bed with a man definitely wasn't a part of that.

In fact she'd never shared her bed with a man before and now she had one she'd dreamed about as a child, flat out and giving every appearance that he was going to go to sleep right there.

Was he still wearing his boots?

The distraction broke the way her mind was chasing its own tail around and around inside her head and she glared at the lumps in the blanket that looked suspiciously too big to just be sock covered feet. Cloud's breathing stayed slow and steady and he didn't twitch or open his eyes. Tifa shifted from watching his boots to watching his face in the unsteady light. Even softened by shadows, his face still looked hard.

Where was the shy boy that had promised to be her hero? Did SOLDIER really do that? Or had it been Shinra?

Very slow, Tifa sank back down on the bed, lying on her side because there wasn't really room for one of them to be on their back much less both of them. She was careful not to touch him and after a moment, she slipped her arm under her head. From the side his face didn't look so cold and tight. From the side she could see the barely there outline of his nose, his lips, his chin. His hair that had been the first thing she'd recognized about him.

He'd recognized her before she'd recognized him…

She had to believe in something…

Five years… Seven.

Cold blue eyes that glowed…

His warmth had already started to permeate the trapped air under the blanket and it was nice. The slums were always cold and clammy – except when they were hot and muggy. Tonight it was the first and it was nice to not have to huddle to keep warm enough. The almost silent sound of his breathing was nice too. Steady and soothing. She could watching his chest rise and fall with each inhale, each exhale. He didn't move other than that and she couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, even if she couldn't imagine he'd fallen asleep. Despite herself she found herself relaxing.

She couldn't decide if she should fight it or not.

Falling asleep with a stranger – a man – Cloud – in her bed was out of the question. It left her stupidly vulnerable and maybe even more worrying than that, it implied that it was alright. That she was comfortable sleeping with a man. A stranger. Cloud.

She opened her eyes, not having realized they'd closed, and he was still there, exactly as he'd been when she'd closed her eyes. Slow, even breathing. Her eyes slipped closed again and she fought them open.

How was she supposed to explain Cloud in her bedroom to everyone else in the morning? What if Marlene or Jessie came in tonight with one of their own nightmares?

Where was the shy boy? The proud boy?

The lonely boy?

Her eyes opened with a jerk and she realized she'd shifted somehow, now nudged up against his side, arms tucked in front of her. When had that happened? Had she fallen asleep? A quick peek upward showed her exactly what she'd seen when she'd looked last time. Careful, she scooted back to until there was the right amount of space between them again. It wasn't as warm but it was more appropriate.

She was going to have to talk to him about the boots…

Nobody should wear boots to bed…

When she woke up again, the room was still dark but the internal clock she carried inside herself in this place where the sun never rose told her it was early morning. She was cocooned in warmth and it was hard to finally pry her eyes open. Instead she snuggled deeper into her nest of blanket, nose pressing into the mattress and smelled –

Her eyes popped open and she sat up with a jerk.

Her bed, and the room, was empty, the door still shut and nothing changed or moved since she'd gone to sleep last night. Slow, she lowered her face to the mattress again and – maybe she smelled the slightest trace of that clean, wild storm scent she associated with Cloud…

Or maybe it was there because of all the nights of taking care of him that she'd collapsed into the bed.

Had she dreamed him last night?

Pulling back the covers she saw bits of dirt on the mattress and blanket down near the foot of the bed. His boots. Except it felt almost too surreal to be real. Cocky ex-SOLDIER Cloud didn't show up like a ghost because of nightmares and he certainly wouldn't have passed up the chance to make her feel awkward about it afterward.

Very slowly, she got up and changed, running through the routine of getting ready on autopilot. Had he? Had they? Or had it just been another part of her dream?

Downstairs, she got breakfast ready for everyone and when they all came in from the upper and lower rooms, her eyes avoided Cloud until she'd already looked at everyone else. No one looked at her with speculation or curiosity. Or anything other than early morning hunger for that matter. Cloud, when she finally looked at him, looked blankly back, glowing eyes calm and expressionless in his lean face. It embarrassed her that she'd even looked at him in the first place. Obviously she'd been dreaming and the dirt was from something she'd done and forgotten about at some point.

When everyone else took their plates from the bar though and went to settle at their tables, he lingered and when she looked back at him, his eyes locked with hers. For just that second there was something in that blue, something deep and old and young and protected and protective and – and something shared. Just for the two of them.

"It keeps away the memories," he muttered, before taking his own plate and heading to the single table he always sat at alone. Tifa blinked as she watched him go. And then Marlene plowed into her legs, clinging and smiling and asking to help and Tifa focused on the immediate.

It was only later, when they'd traveled together longer and she'd watched the splinters forming in his actions, that she wondered:

Just whose memories had that first night kept away?


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know, I adore the remake Cloud. He's as sassy and dry as I remember. We also get to see a softer side of him too though and while I melt completely in happiness at the hints of it - it does make my older fics about OG Cloud seem a little.... too. But they're already written and I do enjoy them and OG Cloud so we're going to go with them anyway. Let's have some OG Cloud from the beginning of the game and break a heart or two.

He'd dreamed, once upon a time, of coming home to her. When he'd still been young and so much more naive. In his daydreams, he would come home from work (his idea of where he worked was vague but he knew that it would be a good job, one he could be proud of)... He'd come home through the cold mountain air or the early spring rains or the long forever summer evening and see the lights on in the windows of his house and know she was there. She'd come out when he came in the front door, stepping out of the kitchen or the living room or coming down the stairs and she'd smile – just for him – and it would make her eyes fill with light and his heart lift in his chest. She'd want to know how his day was or he'd ask about hers or she'd just smile and laugh and turn and he'd follow her into whatever room she'd just come out of. It didn't matter in his dreams. Just that she would be there and she'd be there because she wanted to be with him. It always filled him with warmth and peace, imagining that golden scene in his head. In his heart…

The dream grew more solid after he left Nibelheim. The smell of a home cooked meal would follow her out of the kitchen if she was there. Sometimes she would look surprised to see him, as if she hadn't expected him home yet and her eyes would fill as she smiled for him. Because she always…_always_... smiled for him in his dreams…

Sometimes, as he'd gotten older, she'd greet him with soft arms and needing lips as soon as he came in the door…

It didn't matter how she met him. Half asleep sometimes, it didn't even make sense how she met him. It was that she always met him. Always opened her arms for him. Always smiled.

Always made his heart feel warm and safe inside his chest as the gold glow of the fantasy wrapped around his mind.

He'd lost that dream. Somewhere during those years of poisonous green and screaming and forgotten humanity, of voices whispering inside his head and his heart dying by inches while more and more light was forced into his eyes… he'd lost that little safe home where she waited for him with a smile like tender kisses against his soul.

Even when he'd found her again, he hadn't remembered. It had been gone. A ripped apart, impossible ghost dream.

Until the night he came back from blowing up the first reactor. Barrett had been in the process of being loud and obnoxious – his usual - and he'd been ignoring him – his usual. He'd startled a little girl when he'd come back into the bar the group he was with used as their base and then…

And then she'd come over to him. Left where she was and come over to him and, if the smile had been shy and a little hesitant instead of brightly open, it had still filled her eyes with light. He'd felt his heart constrict in his chest so painfully it felt as if someone had just ripped it out. Or suddenly, after all those years, made it start beating again. He'd felt a tremble move through him and for a brief, impossible moment, the world had been full of gold light and her soft face and a feeling he'd forgotten inside his chest.

She'd said something, he'd said something. It hadn't even mattered. Barrett had exploded back into the building. Ordered chaos had returned. His money had beckoned as everyone went to the hidden room below the bar.

Everyone but her.

Everyone but her and the foreign, inexplicable golden warmth in his chest. He'd followed her without a thought, finding himself at the bar across from her and again, she'd given him that shy, soft, pleased, hesitating smile and he'd felt the hole open up in his chest.

Because he had suddenly understood why something inside him was crying. He'd ordered a hard drink to try to drown it but nothing would. Because, seeing that smile in her eyes, he had finally remembered.

He'd remembered what he'd really lost. And what he was never going to be able to have for himself. Because he was only transient.

And she'd never want to welcome him into any home she would one day create.


	6. Taking Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written from the Crisis Core timeline, Tifa is a fifteen year old mountain guide leading two SOLDIERS and their Shinra troops into the Nibelheim mountains. Neither of the SOLDER are the one she's hoped to see though and instead she's left outside the mako reactor with a Shinra grunt hidden under a trooper helmet who won't even talk to her. What's a girl to do? There was a companion piece written to go with this one so be sure to check out [Of Mako and Promises by ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5066512/1/Of-Mako-and-Promises)

_"You'd better take really good care of me then!"_

She wasn't sure why she'd said it or where it had come from but it had burst out of her in a sudden fit of anger and defiance. Now she kept her back to the man she'd said it to, and the reason she'd said it, and stared out over the mountain range. The nerve, the absolute nerve! Shinra secrets her a –

Her ass! There, she'd said it. At least in her head. 'Ladies' weren't supposed to curse and so cursing, even if it was in her head, made her feel a little better. She folded her arms in front of her and looked out at the sky that always seemed so much further away and yet closer to her this high up in the mountains. It calmed her down a little, so big and endless and empty blue. It always calmed her down, looking at the sky but especially when it was the brilliant, clear blue that she'd heard you only saw in the mountains. It always made her feel safest. She pulled in a lungful of the sharp, cold air and that helped too. She wasn't good at staying mad. She always spent so much energy in the first burst. That – and she always felt guilty for being mean. She didn't like the thought of herself as a mean person.

It was just – it was just those men. Those… Shinra people! She sighed and kicked at the rocky ground with a boot absently, looking down without seeing. All of the sudden she felt hollow inside her chest and she knew why. She wasn't usually this emotional. Cheerful and positive and helpful, sure, but… but she'd almost cried yesterday. She never cried. Not since – not since she was a little kid. And yet when she'd seen the entire collection of people Shinra had sent to her town yesterday, she'd almost cried.

Stupid. That's what she was. Just… stupid.

The already scuffed toe of her boot kicked almost gently at the rocky ground.

She'd told herself not to get her hopes up but she'd been so sure! Wasn't that the way stories went? It had made so much sense that she'd been… she'd been sure one of the SOLDIERs would be –

Would be him…

Her eyes hurt a little and she blinked them. There she went again. What was wrong with her…? She was almost sixteen for goodness sake. That was an adult. Almost… Close enough that she should know better at least. Life wasn't like the stories, no matter how much you thought it should be.

If life was like the stories, he would have written a letter to her at least once since he'd been gone.

Damn it…

The second mental curse made her smile a little at herself. She really was being stupid but the forbidden cursing helped. She guessed she was just tired of waiting. Earlier this week, she'd gone to the shop to pick up her groceries for the week for her and her dad and – and Mr. Green had already had them all set aside for her. Everything that had been on her list and he'd been so proud of himself and she'd laughed and told him how pleased she was and paid him and –

And gone home and spent the next hour beating the literal stuffing and sawdust out of the punching bag her father made her hide in the unused guest room.

Really? Was her life really so predictable? Did nothing ever change for her to the point that she even bought the same stuff over and over and over again? When had her life stopped being hers and become a routine that anyone could have lived? But what had scared her deep inside was…

What if it stayed that way?

What if she lived the rest of her life the same way it was now and nothing ever changed?

That was the low point of the story and then, like any good story, the very next day her father had announced that Shinra was sending someone from SOLDIER to look at the broken mako reactor at the top of Mount Nibel. And she'd known – oh, she'd just known how the story was supposed to go.

Except it didn't.

And here she was angry and hurt because her story had betrayed her even though she knew, she really did, that there was no story. It was just her life and it didn't work according to storybook rules.

And she'd just acted like a spoiled brat to some guy that was just doing his job.

Now she felt stupid and guilty too. She took off her hat and shook her head. Vain enough to not want 'hat hair' even when she was feeling stupid and guilty. That thought made her feel a little bit better. If she couldn't laugh at herself, she probably would go nuts. She was supposed to be their guide on the mountain and instead she was acting like a kid. Twisting the brim of her hat between her fingers she turned around and looked over at the guard standing in front of the steps that led up to the mako reactor. He was doing his best impression of a blank wall and Tifa though he was pretty good at it. He was turned just a little toward her and the mountain path but Tifa couldn't see any of his face except for his nose and cheeks and for all she knew he might be sleeping standing up. She'd heard that soldiers could do that sometimes.

Feeling a bit nervous, she moved back over to him, steps a little hesitant. He probably thought she was some spoiled kid. It made her feel embarrassed but she was determined. She'd been mean and unfair and it wasn't right to not apologize for that.

"I – um – I," she drew in a breath to get her courage together and he suddenly took a step back. It was just a little step, a barely there step, but he did step back. It made her stop moving and she shut her mouth, brows coming down. Had he… had he just stepped _back_ from her?

Was he that disgusted with her or was he angry that she'd been angry or… or was he afraid she was going to be mean again?

"I didn't – " she reached out her hand this time when she took another step forward and he really did backpedal then. Not too far. Just enough to keep him out of arm's range of her. She stopped, hurt. She wasn't used to people not wanting to be physically around her. Heck, most of the men past the age of eleven made excuses to be near her. She folded her arms over her stomach and looked at the guard in front of her. She couldn't see his face and that made it hard for her to tell why he was avoiding her. Was he mad at her? Or had she really been that mean?

She didn't want him to think she was mean.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry," she told him, determined that he wouldn't think everyone in Nibelheim was a jerk just because she'd snapped at him. "I know it's not your fault we're out here. I – I didn't mean to be so – mean."

What a great vocabulary she had. Now he was probably putting 'uneducated' next to 'mean' on his list of things to remember about people from her town. He didn't answer though but she'd kind of gotten used to him not talking. She didn't think he'd said anything the entire time she'd been around him and she thought maybe he was a mute. He nodded at her though. Did that mean he thought she'd been mean or that he accepted her apology? She shifted uncomfortably and he automatically jerked back the littlest bit.

It was getting annoying and she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"I'm not really all that horrible, you know," she protested and then almost smacked herself because she was sounding mean again. This wasn't working at all. She was supposed to be leaving a good impression of her town, of herself, and so far she wasn't doing that at all. She already knew she'd be awake in bed all night feeling bad for this. She had to save things somehow… had to make things better…

The sudden thought made her smile and she felt the glint of mischief.

"You know," she took another step toward him, hands behind her back, and he shifted on his heels but refused to back up. She pressed her lips down to keep from smiling. "With you backing up like that, it makes me feel pretty unwanted. Maybe I should just go find the others."

Her eyes flicked up to where his must be under the cover of his helmet for just a split second in direct challenge – and then she turned and sprinted up the stairs toward the mako reactor all his backing up had left wide open for her.

He caught her on the third step, one of his gloved hands closing around her arm, and she turned back into him laughing. She hadn't really been going to burst into the reactor or get him in trouble. She'd known he'd catch her.

"See?" she grinned at him. "You don't burst into flame if you get too close to me."

She heard a soft little sound from him and it might have been a stifled, almost painful sounding laugh.

"I really am sorry," she told him earnestly. Looking up for eyes she couldn't see under the visor of his helmet. "I didn't mean to sound angry at you."

The helmet barely moved in a shake and the lips she could only catch the hint of under his scarf weren't sharp and angry looking.

"I'm sorry you got stuck out here with me."

The helmet moved again, another almost not there movement, and this time it was a little more complex than a shake of his head but she thought it meant the same thing. He was… he was awfully close for a guy that hadn't wanted to breath the same air she was only moments ago…

She realized it at about the same time she realized she could smell him. Leather and soap and laundry detergent and under that was something that smelled like… it smelled a bit like mountain air, all sharp and clean and fierce. She realized she had her hand on his arm just below his shoulder and that her body was partially twisted to face into his.

It didn't…. it didn't feel bad… and that kind of surprised her.

He let her go and stepped back just as she was starting to think that but it wasn't a jarring move or sharp or angry. His helmet turned as he looked down and away and that helped her a little bit. Maybe he wasn't angry at her. Maybe he was just shy.

She remembered shy. She remembered all the things she'd had two years to wish she'd done in response to shy.

He didn't leave the stair he was on and she didn't want him to think she'd really meant to get him in trouble so she went back down two steps and sat down on the last one.

"You can come sit down," she offered, patting the spot next to her. He hesitated on the stair and she gave him a hopeful smile. She'd blown it big time two years ago and she didn't know if she'd ever had the chance to try again. But… maybe she could start this way with a stranger and by the time she saw the one she really wanted to see again, she'd be good enough to draw him out of his shell and his silence and –

and whatever came after that. She couldn't seem to think farther ahead than that.

Slow, he came down the steps. She expected him to sit down as far from her as possible but he apparently decided to take her hand gestures as a direct indication and, after a moment of standing above her, he finally, almost decisively, sat down right next to her.

She gave him a smile in response and he seemed to relax. Just a little. She wrapped her hands around her knees and looked down the path that led to the steps. After a minute of the silence, she softly said:

"You have, you know? Taken good care of me." A little bashful, she turned her face to look at him and saw he was looking down the path as well. That made it easier because it was a little awkward saying what she wanted to but she'd been raised that you paid what you owed and she owed him this. "Coming up here? Those monsters? I didn't even get a chance to fight any of them, you were always there first. I know you think I'm just a girl and I can't fight but I can. I come up here all the time." Next to her, his shoulders stiffened but she ignored it. "It's not that I'm not used to taking care of myself, it was just…" she stumbled suddenly over the words as she realized she was talking to a total stranger. She wasn't supposed to share the way she really was inside with strangers. Even her father didn't know who she really was inside anymore. She looked down at her knees. "It was nice of you to watch out for me, that's all. So thank you."

It was quiet for a minute and then he made a soft sound. A negation maybe or maybe it was just a 'you're welcome'. It didn't sound like a 'please stop talking' noise though and that made her brave enough to steal a look at him from the edges of her eyes.

His cheeks were pink.

Was he…? Was he blushing? For some impossible reason it made her grin and when she did, his cheeks went even redder and he turned his head away from her to look at the side of the mountain. Really? He was embarrassed she'd noticed he was always there whenever she got threatened coming up the mountain? It was so –

It made her heart feel warm and soft and ache, just a little…

"Let me see your hand," she instructed and he looked at her in surprise. She held out both of hers.

"Come on. Your hand. The one that hurts. I saw you block that monster's snout with your palm when he almost bit you. I've had to do that before too. I know their noses are like rocks and it really hurts when they smack into you that way. I can make it better. Give me your hand."

He shifted away from her, just a little, but she also saw the way the hand in question opened a little and the fingers, barely, shifted toward her. She took that as her invitation and reached out to grab it, scooting closer as she did so that their legs pressed against each others on the outside where they were sitting next to each other. He made a quiet noise when she did and froze and so she could pull his hand over into her lap. He went very still and very silent next to her and she ignored it and competently stripped off his glove.

He had nice hands.

Tifa noticed hands, mostly because she used hers so much when she fought. Master Zangan had gnarled, hard hands. Her father had long, soft hands. The blacksmith had pitted, thick hands. The hand in her lap was long too, with nice long fingers and pale skin. There were some scars on the knuckles already and Tifa knew you got those from fist fighting. The nails were short too and there were calluses in spots on the inside of his palms and the edges of his fingers which meant he didn't wear gloves all the time when he worked. Now that she'd trapped it, his hand lay loose in both of hers and he didn't try to jerk it away. She was aware that he'd leaned and his other arm was braced on the step behind her now, his shoulder behind hers. She thought… she thought if she lifted her head too much their faces would touch…

"See?" her voice came out softer than she was used to and she gently turned his hand over so it was palm up again. "I knew you'd hurt yourself."

The heel of his hand had the beginning discoloration of a bruise forming and she, for no reason she could sanely think of, traced her thumbnail lightly down the inside of his palm. She could hear his quiet inhale and the air suddenly felt a little bit thick and heavy in her lungs.

He smelled so good.

And warm…

She shut her eyes in a quick burst of annoyance at herself and shook her head a little. What was wrong with her? She just wanted to help him. That black haired SOLDIER said being helpful seemed to be a Nibelheim trait when she'd offered to guide him up the mountain, though how the guy could figure that out from just Tifa, she didn't know. Puzzling over something that trivial and pointless helped though and so Tifa started to slowly work at kneading the muscles in the soldier's hand. Her brows came down in concentration as she worked at it.

Sometimes, after practice, her hands would hurt too and Master Zangan had shown her how to massage them to loosen them up again and help the stiffness and pain go away. Tifa had gotten good at it and she had long, strong fingers so sometimes he even let her work on his hands. The soldier's hand that she was working gently on now wasn't half as horn hard and thick as Master Zangan's but it was a strong hand. Good hands, the women in the village would say. The thought made Tifa smile as she rubbed her thumbs slowly in circles over the edges of his palm and then turned his hand over to work the same circles over each joint of each finger. He made a low sound next to her and she smiled again because she knew it felt good. She always liked it when Master Zangan had used to do it to hers, even if his massage had always been just a little rough and impersonal. She couldn't keep this impersonal though because she owed the guy next to her both an apology and a thank you and since he wouldn't take either, she thought she'd give it to him this way instead. That… and if she wasn't paying attention… she could almost pretend it was someone else she was taking care of. Someone who'd broken her heart by not being right where the soldier was right now. And so she tried to tell that other someone that it was all right and she knew it wasn't his fault he wasn't here as she spread the soldier's fingers and massaged between the long digits.

It was no one's fault she'd gotten her hopes up but her own.

She worked in silence and he obviously wasn't the talkative type but it wasn't bad. It was warm and comfortable and Tifa found herself smiling softly. She always felt best when she was making someone else feel good. Finally, she was done though, even if she had stalled, and she lifted his fingers to her lips and lightly blew on the tips of them. She couldn't turn her head much because his was so close to her but she did, just a little, to look at him.

"Master Zangan says that's for luck," she told him and under the cover of his helmet's shadows, his lips smiled a little. For a very long moment more they stayed that way and Tifa thought how –

how wonderful it felt.

As soon as she caught the thought she felt nervous though. She wasn't used to feeling comfortable around men. Not since she'd hit puberty and they'd all decided her eyes were a lot lower on her body than they were. He wasn't looking at her chest but she was still suddenly aware of how close together they were and how… strange that made her feel. So she laughed weakly and looked away and gave his hand back to him very specifically.

"There. Now it won't be stiff in the morning," she told him brightly and scooted over to stand up. He caught her hand and it jerked something funny in her chest. She froze and looked down at him with wide eyes.

She never found out what he would have done. There was the sharp smell of bitter metal in the air and suddenly on her tongue and a flare of raw materia power. Tifa's eyes went huge and horrified as a ring of light and symbols appeared on the ground in front of her and a monster larger than anything she'd ever seen before clawed its way up out of that circle like a nightmare clawing its way out of a child's closet. Up the trail behind it came men in uniforms she didn't recognize. They hadn't come with the Shinra people though. Tifa was used to random wild monsters but this was like nothing she'd ever seen before. And then her eyes widened in even more horror as the air suddenly lit with the scent of ozone and the monster in the fading circle sent a bolt of light slicing toward her.

'You'd better take really good care of me', she'd said not so long ago. Faster than even she could move, the soldier was suddenly in the way of that arching light. He cried out when it hit him and it was a young sound. He didn't fall but the blood from his chest did and then the monster and those strange soldiers were on them and she wished she'd never said the words in the first place.

Some promises are spoken out loud and some are silent. Words aren't the only way to tell someone how you feel. Tifa learned both of those truths that day.


	7. Be My Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a follow-up to 'Taking Care'. Some invitations never fade away, not even in the rain. Pre-Nibelheim to Pre-Advent Children Complete

Tifa stood in the doorway and watched the rain come down. It wasn't a heavy rain but it was the dull, dreary gray rain that she knew from experience would be cold and soak under her clothes and generally do it's best to make her miserable as long after she was out of it as it could. She gave a quiet sigh and tried to steel herself for it, stalling by trying to decide if it was worth running through or if it wasn't even worth that.

It was her own fault really. She was trained enough, had lived here long enough, that she had recognized the signs when she'd left her house. She hadn't brought her raingear though because she's just meant to be gone a few minutes. A few minutes had turned into a few minutes more however as she'd got caught listening to Mr. Green recite his usual litany of aches brought on by the threatening weather as she'd paid for her groceries. And now she was standing in the doorway of the shop, watching the rain come down, cradling her sack of groceries against her chest and pretending the weather was going to clear any minute now.

Any minute now…

Any minute…

Any – oh, who was she kidding? With a quiet sigh and an overdramatic slump of her shoulders to make fun of her own reluctance and make her feel better, she gave in. Time to brace up. It wasn't that far to her own house and then she could dry off and change into clean clothes and wait for the chill to leave her bones.

It wasn't monsters or breaking bridges after all.

Behind her boots scuffed on the wooden floor and she jumped a little in surprise, turning wide eyes to look over her shoulder, startled at how close the sound was. And then her eyes widened just a little bit more.

It was the soldier from before. The one who had saved her from the summoned monster at the reactor and gotten hurt. Zack had told her he was okay – but she hadn't seen him in the three days since she'd helped him back down the mountain.

She'd thought he was avoiding her.

She hadn't exactly been the most helpful when the summon had attacked, so surprised that she'd frozen momentarily and he'd had to get in the way to save her from it's attack. He'd gotten hurt because of her. She'd wanted to apologize –

Except now that he was in front of her, everything she'd wanted to say just dried up and she couldn't think of anything at all. What squeaked out was a pathetic little:

"…hi."

She couldn't see much more than his chin because his helmet was in the way but that pale skin ducked just a little bit more and she had the distinct impression he was peering up at her through his bangs. His shoulders were hunched just a little bit forward and his hands hung in loose fists at his sides. Finally he gave what was close to a nod. Against the canvas bag she was holding, Tifa's own fingers clenched and unclenched.

She wasn't sure why she felt suddenly so shy. She had no problem with Zack and he was a big, bad SOLDIER. Something about the soldier in front of her though made her feel – strange. Kind of soft and shy and super aware of the fact rain made her hair a bit frizzy and the fact she was just wearing her kick around clothes instead of her nice outfit. Awkward, she shifted a little on her feet.

The soldier rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his boots.

"I – um – I wanted to thank you. F-for saving me on the mountain?" she stumbled over it and it wasn't at all what she'd pictured herself saying – or how she'd pictured herself saying it – when she'd been going over it in her head at night before she fell asleep. His face turned to the side away from her and she heard the creak of leather as his hands fisted in their gloves. Stupid. She was doing this so stupidly. Not at all as smooth and beautiful as she'd envisioned. As much as she'd wanted to see him, now all she could think about was getting away so she could mentally berate herself in private.

"So – thanks," she nodded several times and then shrugged so that the bag in her arms lifted. "I've – ah – I've got to get home now though. Um, dinner and all. You know?"

Mentally wishing she could scrub her hands over her face at how badly she was handling this, she gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile. Why was she having such a hard time? She never had a hard time talking to people. Except here she was, stumbling over her words and worrying about her hair and wishing –

…wishing he was blond. Because then everything would make sense.

"Got to go," it was all the warning she could managed and then she ducked out into the rain as quickly as she could, clearing the two stairs down to the ground and then shutting her eyes to cringe. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And then the rain let up.

Her head jerked up and she blinked drops off of her lashes. The worn leather of a brown glove brushed water from her cheeks almost reverently. She was surprised when it didn't startle her. She wasn't used to being touched. Looking up, she saw one of the empty burlap feed sacks Mr. Green kept near the door was being held over her head to keep the rain off and the soldier from the store was holding it awkwardly in place that way across his arm while he peered at her under it's shelter.

It was so – incongruous and awkward and sweet that she had to rapidly blink a few more times against the tightness in her throat and there was nothing in the world that could have stopped the shy, blushing smile she gave him. Under the shelter of his helmet, his own lips offered back something just as embarrassed and shy.

"Like a mama chocobo," she said before she could realize how it sounded and stop herself but the sack was draped across his arm and he had raised it to hold it over her head like a wing. Where she could see the hint of them, his cheeks went red – but then his lips twitched again and he gave a quiet cough she somehow knew wasn't a cough. It reassured her, made her feel safe and comfortable and so she shyly scooted a little closer to him with the silent excuse of making it easier for him to keep the fabric over her head. His chin tucked closer to her and she offered another shy smile.

"Thank you," she whispered and this time he hummed a low, soft sound deep in his throat that made all the tightness in her chest relax but made all the muscles in her stomach tense oddly.

"You're getting wet too," she murmured, realizing it with a flare of guilt for not thinking of it sooner but he only grunted and shook his head a little, reaching up to tap knuckles against the metal of his helmet. It jarred the cloth over her a little and he was meticulous in rearranging it to make sure she stayed dry. She stood carefully still so she wouldn't disturb him as he did.

He still smelled nice. Like leather and detergent and that quieter clean mountain air smell she thought was just him. This close to her, he was warm too and that was nice against the chill of the rain too. His hand shifted in front of her, bringing her attention back to the present with a questioning gesture and her cheeks heated. He was right though, the burlap wouldn't hold out the rain forever and they really did need to get her home.

She started forward but she already knew that the second they started moving it was all going to fall apart. There was no way they could match steps close enough in the awkward position they were in and her little shelter wouldn't last. It was all right though. She didn't really care about the rain anymore.

Except they didn't jar apart. Somehow his steps matched hers almost as if he knew the way she walked and the sack stayed raised for her, warding off the wet and the damp. He was even standing in the path of the wind, body blocking hers from any gusts of rain and she had no idea whether it was on purpose or just chance. Her heart liked to think it was on purpose even if she felt bad for him taking the rain instead of her. Rain off of Mount Nibel wasn't something you ever got used to but at least she was from here and had toughened to it a little. He had no such luck but she noticed that he didn't give any indication of being bothered by it and his steps stayed even and steady with hers, in no hurry to get in out of the storm.

She wasn't exactly either and felt disappointed when he finally stopped walking and she did automatically next to him to realize that they were in front of her front door. She peered up at him from under the cover of his shelter and found he was already looking down at her, chin tucked a little, shoulders less bowed forward than they had been before. She gave him another smile, wishing she lived further away so they could have walked longer – even if it was selfish of her. Searching the shadows under the rim of the helmet, she asked:

"Would you like to come in? You're wet and I can get you something warm to drink to help."

He shifted in answer, for a second leaning almost closer and then he was straightening and shaking his head, exhaling silently through his lips.

She caught herself doing the same thing.

Somehow – she wasn't surprised that he wouldn't come in but it still didn't stop the disappointment. She ducked her own head, determined not to spoil things now though just because of that. So she nodded and looked back up at him with a smile that was just for him.

"It's okay," she assured him. And was then brave enough to add: "Maybe next time."

The hope hung in the air between them, back patterned by the quiet hush of falling rain. His lips parted and then pressed shut. Parted again. Shut again. Finally she saw him swallow and nod weakly.

It flushed her system with light as bright as summer sunshine and the smile she beamed back at him held it all.

"Okay." She nodded. Still riding that wave of joy, she ducked her head forward quickly before she could lose her nerve and pecked a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for saving me. Again."

Cheeks flushed, listening to him make a choking noise as his pale skin flared red, she opened her door and darted inside, shutting it quickly afterward. She still scooted quickly over to the side though so that she could peer out the window, hidden by the curtain and watch as it took the soldier a very long time and several rubs to the back of his neck before he finally turned and walked away. Smiling to herself, she thought, maybe, he was walking just a bit straighter too. Then she sank back against the wall and let herself slide down it, still hugging her bag of groceries to her chest.

She didn't know exactly what had happened but she knew it was good. Her heart told her so. Determined, she finally got back to her feet. Now she just had to make sure that she didn't mess anything up.

Except she never got the chance. That night Nibelheim burned and her world of childhood dreams and hopes turned to ash along with it.

It was many years later and rain from an entirely different continent that had Tifa standing in the doorway of a different shop and staring out at the gray drizzle. Her black and white sneakers made squeaking sounds against the concrete floor as she fidgeted in the doorway.

Home wasn't that far away and she had to get dinner started soon. Marlene would be waiting. It was just a little bit of wet and even if the rain that fell on Edge always smelled a bit funny and was a bit dirty, at least it wasn't cold most of the time. Wearing her work leathers the way she was, she wouldn't even get that wet. It was just –

She was so tired of the rain and gray skies. It had been raining for almost two weeks and when it didn't rain it was just – blah. Everything in Edge was blah and sometimes she didn't blame Cloud in the least for being gone away from it so long on his deliveries. It was as if the recent disease that was starting to inflict itself had taken over not only the humans but now even the sky, spreading its bruised gray across the entire world. Tifa was feeling tired and worn down and lonely and she knew that the rain was nothing to let bother her, it was just –

She was tired of being – dreary.

What a stupid thing to be letting herself feel.

Still, she hesitated in the doorway.

And as if in answer to a silent call she'd never made, she watched a dark figure materialize out of the dim alleyway and trudge with slow, steady steps toward her. He had a scarf of thick wool that he sometimes wore when it got truly cold around his shoulders and pulled up to shelter his head but even without the tell-tale golden spikes visible there was no mistaking Cloud Strife.

She would have known him even without the giant sword in it's harness against his back though.

His steps didn't falter or hesitate until he came to a stop directly in front of her at the foot of the low stairs that kept the worse of the mud out of the shop. Silent he raised his face when she murmured his name and his blue eyes were tired but still bright as they locked on her under the shadow of his hood.

"You weren't home."

His voice came out throaty and raw and quiet, coarse as if he hasn't used it lately. He cleared his throat in the rain and tried again.

"I got home and you weren't there. Marlene said you'd come here."

He stopped abruptly as if he'd run out of words with still more left to say and simply looked up at her with his eyes of tropic blue, looking a little lost and very determined.

He was here to bring her home. Where she belonged.

It made something in her throat tighten and she had to blink several times against it but the edges of her lips trembled upward for him and whatever he saw it convinced him to take those two steps up to join her in the doorway, dripping puddles of water carelessly into the interior of the store. He didn't notice and who was going to chide Cloud Strife, savior of Gaia for being a bit messy? Without a word, he unwound his scarf and then draped it around her, taking his time, brows down in concentration as he meticulously rearranged its folds around her and then pulled the thick part of it up to form a protective hood for her, sheltering her shoulders and head from the drizzling rain. Careful, worn leather of his gloves raising unintentional goose bumps across her skin, he made sure that her hair was tucked up into it as well, frowning a little at himself as he worked.

She stood very still so that she didn't interrupt him and watched his face as he did.

Finally he was satisfied she was as protected against the harmless water as she possibly could be and he wordlessly took her bags from her arms, shifting their weight so they both sat in the cradle of one of his arms. His other hand shifted and he looked suddenly lost with what to do with its freedom.

With a soft smile, Tifa slipped her fingers between his there and felt him relax. Together they stepped out into the rain, steps matched and made their way home down the narrow street and reworked alleys. Fenrir was parked outside the back door to Seventh Heaven under the awning they'd put up for it until they could build a garage and it ticked in the cool air, still in the process of cooling down. Cloud dropped her hand so that Tifa could go up the low steps first. She pushed the door open but Cloud paused at the bottom of the steps. She turned in the doorway and he was looking up at her again, blond hair dark with moisture, pale, tired face still smudged with some of the more stubborn stains from his traveling to get here, forgotten groceries still in his possession.

Waiting.

He'd been gone a very long time this trip.

With a smile, Tifa's face softened and she stepped back into the house just one step, just enough to make room for him.

"You're wet," she told him softly. "Come in and I'll get you something hot to drink."

Through the rain, through the gray, his eyes of tropic blue found hers and she watched the edges of his lips soften. With a hum and a nod, he followed her up the stairs and into the house, closing the door behind him.


	8. His Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you have to make up the people you need in your head because they're not there for you in reality. Young Cloud knew this - and swore he's never be the cause of it. Set both pre-Nibelhiem and post Advent Children Complete.

His dad was the strongest dad in the whole wide world! He rode a black chocobo called Smoke and he killed monsters for a living. There were little villages all over the continent – no… all over the world! – that knew his dad's name and cheered whenever they heard it. Sometimes… sometimes on cold winter nights around the pub they'd tell stories about his dad and how brave and strong he was. How – how his dad had saved the village and the people and – and the mayor's pretty daughter from marauding monsters…

He hopped off his bed and went to the bookcase to pull out the dictionary. It was heavy and he dropped it in the middle of the worn wooden floor and sat down in front of it to look through.

He didn't know what 'marauding' meant but it always seemed to have to do with monsters and so he figured it must be bad. His mom said you shouldn't use a word if you didn't know what it meant though so he scowled and ran his finger down the small print on the pages, looking for what he wanted.

How did you spell 'marauding'?

Mannequins were giant dolls?

Marauding was: 'to rove or raid in search of plunder'.

He kind of liked the sound of that and he rolled it around in his head. He wanted to go marauding. It sounded dangerous and fun. His mom was still outside in the garden and so he went marauding into the kitchen looking for cookies. He wasn't supposed to have cookies before dinner but he thought that was the point of marauding. He marauded and marauded but was left without cookie plunder. It was when he turned around to go look up 'cookies' in the dictionary to see if it would give him a recipe so he could make more that he remembered what he'd been doing in the first place. Hefting the book up with both arms he carried it carefully back to the shelf.

He'd been thinking about his dad.

His brave dad. His noble dad. His strong and bold and powerful dad.

His dad who was better than Johnny's dad.

For some reason telling himself stories about his monster killing dad didn't seem that satisfying anymore. Johnny's dad owned the general store and he gave Johnny a whole gil once a week for helping sweep it out. Today Johnny had bought candy with it and shared it with his friends…

A swipe of his arm over his eyes was enough to prove he wasn't crying and he crawled back up onto his bed and rolled over to look out the window. He hadn't gotten any candy and he'd acted like he didn't care. He wasn't going to ask and beg for it like the other boys had. He was better than that. His mom said that weak people asked for things, strong people did it on their own and he'd certainly never heard his mom ask anyone for anything even when Mrs. Lockhart next door was cooking something that smelled really good and all his mom had on the stove was the same soup they'd had yesterday. Sometimes, if he put on just the right act and showed up at just the right time, Mrs. Lockhart would see him and ask him over for snacks in the afternoon.

She made the best cookies… which was probably why her little dark haired, dark eyed daughter that Cloud so secretly adored had turned out so pretty and sweet…

His mom made really good cookies too, he staunchly defended in his head, feeling disloyal and guilty. It made him want to go outside and disappear into the woods around the village but he was grounded and his mom said he couldn't go play outside today. He rolled over on his stomach and fiddled half-heartedly with his wooden soldiers.

He hated being trapped inside!

If his dad was here –

If his dad was here he'd probably be mad at him too…

He hadn't meant to run through Mr. Macon's flowers in front of the inn. He'd just – he'd been in a hurry and he hadn't been paying attention. He'd been fighting monsters in his head and –

And you'd think he'd done something unforgivable the way Mr. Macon had carried on and on!

They were just _flowers_ for pity's sake!

He'd ended up grounded all the same. And now he was stuck inside with nothing to do all because of some dumb flowers.

His mom had been really embarrassed.

He felt guilty about that…

If he had a dad he bet his mom wouldn't have had to feel embarrassed.

He buried his face in the crook of his arms and shut his eyes tight. 'Cause he didn't really have a dad. As much as he wanted to pretend - his dad wasn't a monster slayer. He just… wasn't. He wasn't here, he wasn't part of their family, he wasn't interested in hanging around. He wasn't going to tell Mr. Macon to shut up about the flowers, he wasn't going to make everything okay for Mom, he wasn't going to come home and…

He just wasn't.

His dad was one big 'wasn't'.

His dad had always been a big 'wasn't'.

His face set in determination in the shadow of his thin arms. _**He**_ wasn't going to be a wasn't. He was going to be a _was_. And he'd come home and he'd make sure nobody yelled at his family about flowers and he'd –

He'd take care of them.

Even if he didn't know exactly how… he'd find a way… he'd take care of them…

"Cloud?"

The sound came from the doorway and he barely kept himself from spinning over automatically to face it. He barely remembered in time that he'd fallen asleep on the couch and if he rolled over, he'd roll right off and onto the floor and that threats didn't usually whisper his name in little kids' voices in the middle of the night.

Why was he sleeping on the couch…?

Right. Tifa. Gone for the weekend. Kids and him – on their own. With a grunt he sat up and focused on the archway to the steps and the upstairs rooms. Denzel, flyaway hair even more flyaway than usual, stood hesitantly in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. Cloud's internal clock informed him of the impossibly late hour even as he swung his long legs off the couch and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

The males of the family never slept well on the rare occasions Tifa was gone. Cloud couldn't even bring himself to sleep in their shared bed without her warmth there…

At his silent waiting, Denzel fidgeted and then shuffled over. Without a word, he crawled up onto the couch next to Cloud and scooted into the shelter of the larger man's side. Cloud wrapped an arm around the child and didn't ask.

He'd had enough nightmares to know what they looked like on someone else.

With a sigh he shifted backward. Sometimes Denzel just needed a sheltering body in order to get back to sleep but when he sat back this time, Denzel went with him but stayed stiff and forcibly awake.

That bad of a nightmare, huh? His arm tightened just a bit more around the boy's slim frame.

A real dad would know what to do to make everything right.

Without Tifa by his side to silently encourage him though, Cloud felt lacking. It didn't matter how many times she told him that simply being himself was enough for the kids… he knew he should be doing more for them. Denzel gave a sigh and unconsciously, Cloud echoed it himself.

A real dad would do… whatever it was that real dad's did to make the leftover, sick, shaking, clammy-stomach-fear go away. A real dad would know what to say to make the bad memories of the past stop bubbling up in the empty darkness of the night. A real dad would know how to make the tinges of green… or in Denzel's case, black… stay away from the edges of their eyes when they weren't paying attention.

In the shelter of his body, tucked in against his warmth, unnoticed, Denzel started to relax. Together they sat in silence in the dark for a little while, the two Strife males, and… it felt pretty good. Finally, Cloud looked down at the top of the kid's head – and, was it hypocritical to think automatically that the kid needed a haircut?

"Come on," his voice was low as he scooped the boy up and settled him onto his back. They were probably both too old for piggy-back rides but when Denzel's thin arms wound trustingly around his neck, something in Cloud relaxed. With a grunt, he headed for the kitchen.

"What're we doing?" Denzel's muffled voice came from between his shoulder blades and the corner of Cloud's mouth twitched upward. His answer was succinct.

"Marauding."

Lockhart hands still made the best cookies. Even, Cloud thought smugly, if her last name wasn't Lockhart anymore…


	9. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to do something with the Kingdom Hearts version of Cloud from the first video game for a while now. Never having played the game my knowledge is limited and I'm feeling unrepentant about that. Since Kingdom Hearts is an AU than I suppose this is an AU of an AU. Or perhaps it's entirely just for Final Fantasy VII instead. Either way, here we go. It's not at all what I had in mind originally and I'm not quite sure how it went over. Set just before the beginning of FFVII.

When Jessie mentioned her dream lover Tifa couldn't help standing up a bit straighter. They weren't the best of friends but they were the only women in a rough and tumble group of men and if they didn't have enough in common to be friends, solidarity in the face of unequal odds proved enough. Still, they didn't talk about personal or intimate details often. In fact, they might never except for those nights when Jessie got herself just a little bit on the plastered side (well, they did operate out of a _bar_) and tended to forget to feel restricted in front of Tifa. Tifa, perpetual bartender with all the expected willing ear and shoulder necessary, never minded listening to the other woman while she cleaned glasses and Jessie sipped at her drink. Jessie never got thoroughly drunk. She just got… lonely sometimes. Tifa understood lonely and they all dealt with it in their own way.

So when Jessie mentioned the words 'dream lover' Tifa's ears perked up invisibly and she turned her head to look at the other woman as she continued to dry the mug she was working on. Jessie sighed and rested her cheek against the arm she had folded on the counter top.

"He's sweet and strong and he doesn't brag about big things he's never really going to do," the redhead's voice was drowsy and she closed her eyes with a little smile. "He saves me when I'm in trouble and he tells me how pretty I look. Me… pretty." She smiled at the thought and didn't open her eyes. "He's got nice eyes too. Really, really nice eyes…"

Tifa waited but the other woman didn't continue and so Tifa edged a little closer and asked hesitantly:

"What color?"

"Hmm?" Jessie sat up a little and looked over at the bartender with lazy eyes. Tifa shifted a little, toe of her boot tapping against the back of her other calf and repeated:

"What color are his eyes?"

"His eyes? Oh," Jessie focused for a minute and then frowned. "I don't know. Something pretty. He'd have pretty eyes."

"Oh." Tifa said it softly and her shoulders sank a little but she smiled gently at the other woman as she moved over to set the mug down and pick up the next one. Jessie hadn't been talking about what she thought the other woman - hoped the other woman - was talking about. Because… Tifa knew what color eyes her dream lover had.

Blue.

They were an impossible blue.

She knew they were blue because she saw them almost every night.

The night of Jessie's talk about a dream lover was no different. Tifa closed down the bar and got everything and everyone settled for the night and then she finally ran though the short routine of getting ready for bed herself. It had been a long day and she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She opened her eyes when she heard the heavy tread of his footsteps on the stairs.

If she could hear him than it meant he'd had a hard day himself. His body had a way of radiating his emotions. Which helped because his face so rarely did. She knew he could walk quietly but most of the time he walked the way he did now. With heavy, tired steps.

He had a way of breaking and filling her heart at the same time.

The door to her room pushed open but it wasn't the door she'd closed. The same way the bed she was in wasn't the bed she'd fallen asleep in even though it was unmistakably, somehow, hers just as much as the room. In her dreams, she always started off in the same place.

His head was bowed as he came in, face almost hidden in the cowl of his cloak. She knew that position and she sat up in bed, pushing the blanket back a little. She wasn't in the worn shorts and loose top she'd fallen asleep in. Instead she was in a tank top that was close but not the same as her daywear and the skirt was red. The same way the fingerless gloves she wore here were red and only came to her elbows, lacking the extra fighting gloves she so often wore in the slums. Here she was softer. Softer and, she'd found to her not entire surety, she was more feminine here.

She wasn't used to being safe enough to be feminine. _He_ made her that way in this strange dream world they shared.

His head came up when she moved and he inhaled. The ridiculously huge sword he carried across his back as if it were an afterthought was suddenly unslung and he propped it against the wall as he approached the bed. Because it was him, because she was dreaming, because – here – it was all right, she shifted onto her knees and held out her arms for him. He made a noise as he all but collapsed forward into them, a quiet, throaty, humming sound of relief and need. It pulled the edges of her lips upward even as it hurt her heart and she buried her face in his hair and held him close against her.

He smelled like sun baked sand and dust and blood and shadows and black lightening.

His arms didn't rise to wrap around her but he leaned a bit harder into her. It pulled a stifled laugh out of her as he almost tipped her over and in response he hummed again, sounding, just a little, as if he were smiling.

Reaching up with one hand, she dragged her fingers through his hair. Golden hair. Soft golden hair with the most alarming set of spikes framing his face she'd ever seen. Only once…

Only once had she ever known anyone that had hair that might have been close to competing with the rampant spikes of his.

That hair had been gold too…

She knew why the man in her arms now had gold hair. The same way she knew why he had breathtaking blue eyes. In her head, she even had a name she called him.

But he wasn't fourteen and if there was anything innocent about him, she'd never seen it.

She was a long way from Nibelheim. Even in her dreams, she was a long way from Nibelheim.

There were nights they stayed this way all night long but tonight she smelled the blood on him and so she pushed him back just a little. He went but the way he did so indicated he was only letting her move him and if he'd had other ideas they would have been doing things his way instead. That had used to frighten her at first. Waking up in a strange bed and dealing with a strange man who was so much more dangerous than anyone she'd ever dealt with before.

Because, somehow, she recognized that, to her, the blond with her now was even more dangerous than the man that had burned her home to the ground, slaughtered her father and almost killed her. How fitting that the man in front of her now had started showing up in her dreams during those first fever sick months following that waking terror.

That had been almost four years ago.

He hadn't left her dreams since.

He watched her as she stayed resting on her knees on the bed, as she reached out and unwrapped the cowl of his ragged cloak and drew the entire blood red mess off of his shoulders.

His wing came free as she did.

Wings… what kind of strange make up did she have in her subconscious that she had given him wings? Or rather, wing. Just one, and that like an ornate bat's, though she knew from experience it felt as soft as suede. If he used it to fly, she'd never seen it. It seemed more to be another extension of his emotions – the ones he never showed on his face.

He had used to shy away from her touching that wing.

He'd gotten over it.

She caressed it with her fingers now and his shoulder on that side relaxed. Just a little. Almost as unnoticeable as his sighed exhale and the way his glowing blue eyes closed briefly.

His eyes hadn't used to glow. Not when he'd first started coming into her dreams in this strange place that was hers and yet wasn't. The same way he hadn't always had the wing.

Or the golden clawed glove.

Four years had seen quite a few changes in the way he looked and moved. It had seen changes in just how much heartbreak her heart had grown to be able to bear as well. Light, she stroked his cheek and his eyes found her face. She saw a rueful wryness in that blue and it made her own lips curve in answer. Gentle, she leaned up and kissed his forehead and in answer he ducked his head and kissed her throat.

They never went far. Something inside both of them seemed to hold back and Tifa was never sure if it was a whispered 'not yet' in her head or a 'it's not really him' that stopped her. She didn't know what he heard in his own mind but there was always a chain around him as well that seemed to stop him. Sometimes… when he looked at her, she saw the distrust in his own eyes as well and she wondered who he thought she was and what she looked like to him if he looked so much like a broken promise to her.

She couldn't ask. There were no voices in her dreams of him.

Or his dreams of her. Sometimes she wondered which of them was dreaming and which was the dream.

His teeth scrapped her throat and made her stomach jerk in weightless reflex. Sometimes he left marks on her. They were never there in the morning when she woke up. She just felt them all day long.

She shut her eyes and sighed his name, though all that came out in the world of their dream was a low murmuring sound without meaning. He heard her anyway and knew that she had named him even if he couldn't hear it. Because his voice, low and just a little bit raw, moved his lips like liquid fire against her throat as he said hers. A mumble, a murmur, but she recognized the sound of her name even if the dream wouldn't let her hear it with anything more than her heart.

She wondered what name he really said when he was like this with her. She wondered what name he thought he heard her say…

She wondered when she'd stopped thinking of him as nothing but a dream and started thinking he was real.

Gentle, she pushed him away again and, reluctant, his lids low over his eyes, he let her. Barely. Some nights he didn't let her push him away and she didn't know about him but she would wake up from those dreams tense and nervous and breathless and straining toward something she didn't understand. At almost sixteen, it had been confusing and a little frightening. Luckily, at that age, he hadn't been as aggressive as he'd grown over the years. At almost twenty, she understood a great deal better thanks to the area she lived in and the things she saw. It was too late by then though. She'd already learned to melt for him.

Reaching up now, she started to unbuckle the numerous belts and fastenings he wore. He wasn't dripping blood onto the stone floor the way he sometimes did but she still wanted to check and make sure the blood she smelled wasn't his. At almost sixteen it had bothered her. Now the only thing she thought when she smelled blood on him was the hope that it wasn't his.

Far too often, it was his.

It had made her rearrange her priorities.

As usual, she grumbled over the number of fastenings he was wearing and as usual, he made sounds in his throat that were barely discernible chuckles. The iron shoulder pauldron came off and landed on the bed next to her first and the various leather straps followed the way they always did.

She didn't know why he always let her do this. He had to be capable, even with the metal claws on his off hand, of doing it himself since she never saw him in the morning and each night the straps were back in place again. She just knew that it had started the first time she'd clipped her chin on his shoulder plate when they were both younger because he'd hugged her too hard one night. He'd been impossibly devastated over the blood on her chin that she'd already known wouldn't be there when she woke up and the next night he hadn't gotten anywhere near her. It had left her so lonely inside her heart that the next night she'd jumped him as soon as he'd hesitantly opened the door and taken the shoulder armor off immediately just so that she could hug him. The pattern had started and over the years they'd never changed it.

She knew to be careful with the razor sharp plates on his dominant hip and thigh and she peeled off his golden claws last, making the same noises she made every night at what they'd done to the pale, callused skin of his fingers.

Some nights there was blood between the claws and the skin. Some nights, it was even his blood. Tonight wasn't one of them.

Without the extra gear, his outfit looked surprisingly like a SOLDIER's. But that didn't surprise her. If he was going to wear the face and form of her lost promise, why wouldn't he wear the clothing she'd expected to see?

It was his turn to gather her into his arms then, now that he was just warm, solid flesh, stripped of all his cold, hard armor and the sharp edges of rending metal. His heart beat against hers through their chests and his fingers knotted in the fabric and flesh of her, tangling strands of her hair along with them. She found him again with her arms and held on tightly.

There was always at least one hug like this during their nights together. A hug of desperation and need and familiarity. Two children in adult bodies clinging to each other because…

Because they were all either of them had left. Everything else was gone. Every last familiar landmark and touchable memory and familiar voice. All gone forever. He was all she had left that she could call 'hers'. Really, always, truly, only just 'hers'. She clung to that, and him, even though she sometimes wondered how horribly pathetic it made her, clinging to something she knew was only a pretend of what she knew wasn't even there anymore.

Except… he always held her just as tightly…

Still holding her, he joined her on the bed, careless as he knocked the armor and leather and cloth out of the way. In his arms, the change began.

He had grown a wing and a man's body through the years.

She'd learned to glow.

It was a soft light. It reminded her of nothing so much as moonbeams reflecting off her skin. But it stayed no matter how she turned or what shadowed over her. In his arms, her skin glowed a soft, white light.

He hated the dark.

In response, her dreams had taught her to be a light for him. Now he only had to touch her to set her skin warming and radiating under his touch. Pulling her down onto the bed with him, he buried his face in her pale, moon-colored skin and exhaled. His wing came forward and covered them both. Protection. Privacy. Careless of the fact they were both still wearing shoes, that he was filthy, that they had only just greeted each other, the sleep overtook both of them.

They didn't meet at night to spend time together. They met each night because it was the only way either of them could find true sleep.

They met because the nightmares outside were too strong to bear alone.

One night, maybe soon, Tifa knew that she wouldn't wake in her dreams in an empty room listening to boot steps coming up the stairs. No woman could live her entire life in the arms of a dream.

What she didn't know, couldn't know, was that she would lose him only to find him again on the other side of waking, wingless and confusing.

And still, somehow, completely, only just hers.


	10. Fake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set during the Gold Saucer and the date choice. Tifa thinks one thing, Cloud thinks quite another. There's a wonderful companion piece called [Dichroic by Sekihara Tae](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6718627/1/Dichroic) that I can't recommend highly enough.

Tifa lay in bed curled on her side facing the window with her hands tucked up against her chest. It was raining with beautiful bursts of lightening outside her window and while she usually liked rain and stormy nights, the one outside was fake. Fake the same way the gravestones on the lawn were fake, fake the way the 'ghosts' that moved through the mirror on the wall were fake, fake the way…

fake the way her hopes were…

She curled a little bit smaller on her side under the blankets and listened to the fake rain and the fake thunder.

Her fake life…

She knew she shouldn't be doing this to herself. She shouldn't. It was only going to make her miserable. More miserable. She blinked at the fake raindrops that chased their way down the glass of the window and tried not to think.

Tried not to think about poor Red XIII and what mad scientists might have done to him. Tried not to think about how utterly overwhelming hunting down Sephiroth seemed if she looked at it too closely.

Tried not to think about Aeris and the date she was on…

There had to be something wrong with her that she was letting herself get upset over Aeris taking Cloud out for a night of laughter and fun. They were at the Gold Saucer, weren't they? Cloud should have fun, even if it was only for a night. Aeris was good at making people feel better. Tifa knew she should be glad someone could get through Cloud's shell and maybe coax him into forgetting to frown and fixate on dire future events, at least for one night?

Would it be the whole night?

The _whole_ night…?

She winced at the way it made her chest hurt and clenched her hands a little closer to her chest.

Usually Tifa couldn't stand being alone for long. Right now though, she couldn't bear the thought of being around anyone. And since the strange stuffed cat on the stranger stuffed white beast had said the rooms were free – well, after Aeris had left, Tifa had quietly repacked her backpack and snuck down to the front desk to ask for a private room.

It probably made her spoiled. She just couldn't bear listening to anyone else right now.

Not Yuffie, wondering cheerfully about whether there was any materia in the claw arcade machine. And certainly not Aeris when she came back from her…

from her date with Cloud.

The other girl knew how she felt. The same way Tifa knew how Aeris felt. They'd reached a silent agreement though not to let it ruin the time they enjoyed together as friends. Aeris certainly wouldn't brag about whatever she and Cloud did. It was just that Tifa didn't think she could even bear seeing the other woman come back smiling.

She hunched into a slightly smaller ball.

If Aeris even came back at all tonight…

She wished she could get angry but she couldn't. Aeris had decided to convince Cloud to go out and enjoy the amusement park with her. She was brave enough, sure enough of herself, that she could. Tifa didn't consider herself a coward. She might have, eventually, thought of the idea herself. But Aeris had thought of it first and she'd spoken about it first, almost from the second they'd arrived.

Tifa understood. She really did.

She just… she just didn't want to have to deal with it.

She didn't want to deal with it so strongly that she'd asked the desk clerk that had given her the room to not tell anyone where she was. She couldn't imagine that anyone would come looking for her this late anyway but it had made her feel better to ask. To know that she could, for tonight at least, drop her usual mask of being positive and just hurt for a little while. Not for long, of course. She'd be fine tomorrow and back to her old self. Just… just for tonight, she wanted to be allowed to admit her heart hurt.

And it did.

oh… it did…

Because she wanted what Aeris had. She wanted to be the reason blue eyes smiled the way she was sure they were right now somewhere beyond the fake rain and lightening. She wanted to be the reason he forgot to be serious and actually _played_, even if it was just for tonight in a fake world.

She wanted him to be _happy_. And she wanted, selfishly, to be the reason he was.

The thunder rolled outside on its prerecorded track and the floorboards squeaked the way the small motors under them shifted them to and the fake rain fell on the blank window and filled her eyes that felt just as blank.

There were two distinct thuds on the floor behind her next to her bed and she frowned. Those were new sounds in a room that was full of squeaking floors and rattling glass at the window. Was she supposed to think those were ghost noises or –

The bed sank on that side as well and that did startled her back to awareness. She was pretty sure moving beds weren't part of the 'atmosphere' the hotel was trying to create. She started to roll, eyes wide, with some vague idea of the bed breaking in half thanks to overzealous interior decorators, when she felt a hand land on her shoulder to keep her still.

She froze.

Her. Tifa Lockhart. Zangan trained – froze. Instead of reaching up to grab that hand and throw its owner through the window. Which could only mean one person in the entire world.

"Stay put."

Cloud's voice was flat and low. His hand stayed on her shoulder until he was sure she wasn't going to move. Then it left but she felt the blanket on that side lift and a second later he was sliding under the covers with her.

Now she really was frozen and it was for an entirely different reason. It was simple shock.

What?

What – what?!

His body nudged up against hers and he reached over her to drop an extra room key on the night table before shifting thoughtfully, trying to find a comfortable spot.

What?

What… just _what_?!

With a rough noise he settled down and his arm slipped over her waist as his body fit itself completely around the curve of hers. Eyes huge, she felt him keep adjusting his position until they were tucked together from her heels all the way up to the backs of her shoulders.

This wasn't happening. It wasn't. It didn't make any sense at all and Cloud had never – would never – they'd never –

Just… never.

Still not content with their closeness, he moved her now, hand shifting to her hip to press her closer against him there, leg shifting to lay over top of both of hers so that the fabric of his pants dragged against the bare skin of her legs, his other arm shifting so that it slipped under her and could wrap around her as well to hold her tightly against himself.

He did it all without a sound past an occasional grunt as he shifted or exhale as he found a way to wrap closer around her curled body.

This… what was… how… did he…? Her mind couldn't even pick one question out of the flurry inside her head. It didn't help that he was warm against her and carried the smell of mountain wind and lightening she'd come to associate with him. It certainly didn't help that his hands were careless about how they touched her, as if he wasn't aware that he didn't have a right to or that he should have boundaries he wasn't supposed to cross. Finally one of his hands wrapped around the both of hers that were still clenched against her chest and he seemed to settle.

Settle?

What was he doing!? They'd gotten more comfortable with each other in their journey so far but they'd never – he'd never – they'd certainly never been… been…

physical like this.

For pity's sake, she was still just trying to adjust to the way her skin seemed to burst into flame when all he did was look at her across the campfire sometimes at night and that was usually when he was simply asking if she wanted more to eat before he finished whatever was in the pot for the night. This was… What was he - ?

"Cloud…?" she whispered it, entirely unsure of what was going on. He made a noncommittal answering noise in his throat and his body started to relax against hers. She tried to give in to the urge to fidget but with her body tucked so intimately against his she didn't dare and when she tried to with her fingers, they were both already tangled with the fingers of his single hand. His other hand was resting alarmingly over her stomach.

The shirt and shorts she slept in didn't quite cover her stomach.

"How did you know where I was?"

It wasn't at all the question she wanted to ask. What she wanted to ask was 'what are you doing?' and, more importantly by a long stretch –

'what are you doing _to me_?'

What came out though was the safer question. His answer was calm and factual, slightly throaty with sleep.

"I asked."

She shook her head, just a little, which was almost all she could manage movementwise by this point he was wrapped so completely around her.

"I told the clerk not to say."

Were they really talking about something that mundane? Was she really having this conversation while his body enveloped hers and the skin of his exposed fingers that the glove didn't cover burned like a fire against her stomach and his breath whispered just as hot against her throat? It felt impossibly surreal and she would have been sure she was dreaming except even her dreams made more sense than suddenly having Cloud Strife crawl into bed with her. His answer was flat.

"Tifa. I _asked_."

"oh… oh!" She suddenly felt sorry for the poor desk clerk. Mako eyes could be terrifying when they held the force of Cloud's determination behind them. She paused and pressed her lips together. Barely there, she whispered:

"…why…?"

He was quiet for so long that she thought he'd either gone to sleep or was ignoring her. His arms around her didn't loosen though.

"Tifa," his voice was very quiet and it paused for another very long minute. "Am I here with you?"

"um… yes?" Her fingers tried to fidget again in the tangle of his. Wasn't that the problem? Or… maybe _problem_ wasn't the word but wasn't that what the point was?

"Not somebody else? Me?"

She managed to turn her head a little then. Just enough to see the pale color of his hair from the edges of her eyes.

"Cloud?" she finally managed to free one of her hands and she lightly, gingerly, touched the bare arm he had banded across her chest. The truth slipped out before she could edit it. "I wouldn't be letting anyone else touch me this way but you, would I?"

"No." His response was immediate and hard. Flat. Final. His arms tightened almost painfully around her and his fingers closed around hers that were still twined with his. Her stomach took a loop that would have made a rollar coaster designer proud. It was quiet for a long moment and then she felt him relax a little bit again. He surprised her by burying his face in the back of her shoulder. It muffled his voice as he quietly asked:

"I don't… remind you of anyone else. Do I?"

Only yourself, she wanted to tell him. He only reminded her, just sometimes, of the boy she'd known in Nibelheim. When he wasn't being a stranger and threatening hotel clerks so that he could crawl into her bed without invitation. When he wasn't being hard and cold and careless and she'd see a whisper of the sensitive young boy with the shining, determined eyes… that's when he reminded her of – himself…

Most of the time she didn't recognize him. Just… sometimes. Sometimes he was thoughtful and quietly kind and overprotective of his small team of misfits.

"Tifa?"

She shook her head a little and gently stroked her fingers over his forearm. The way he was holding her, it was almost the only way she could move.

"You just remind me of you, Cloud. Nobody else."

She felt him relax against her then and it went all the way through him so that he lay heavy against her. It surprised her and made her feel strangely protective of him. His warmth and weight against her wasn't a bad feeling at all.

"That's right," he murmured against her skin and it was more to himself than her. "I'm Cloud. You said so yourself. I'm Cloud. You would know."

The words woke that little sliver of fear she hid in her chest. Because… he was Cloud. Wasn't he? He remembered growing up with her in Nibelheim. He had remembered her name when they'd first met. He had the same spiky blond hair and blue eyes even if they glowed now as they hadn't seven years ago.

Five years ago…

He said five. She was sure it was seven. He remembered Nibelheim burning. But he hadn't been there…

He could be cold and uncaring. He could be sweet and thoughtful.

The fake rain fell on the window. But if it was water falling from above, it was still rain, wasn't it? Even if it came from pipes instead of clouds, if it fell from above… what else did you call it but rain?

Cloud remembered their childhood promise.

Only Cloud would know about that. He even remembered that she'd been late getting there…

Who else would he be but Cloud?

"Tifa."

His quiet voice blended in with the sound of the rain on the window and he hadn't moved. She'd thought he was falling asleep.

"Mm?"

Again he was quiet for a long time but she was getting used to that about him. After a long moment, he calmly asked in that dark honey voice of his that still refused to carry emotion:

"Why didn't you come to my room tonight?"

It jerked and froze her in almost the same instant and she went absolutely still in his arms. For a long moment, her mind refused to even acknowledge the question. He lay still against her and waited with a seemingly unlimited supply of unruffled patience.

It forced her to face the question.

She knew what his question had sounded like and she also knew he hadn't meant it that way. Any other man would have meant it 'that way' but it didn't occur to Cloud. The same way it didn't seem to occur to him that climbing into bed with her and practically mauling her might be considered inappropriate.

Or even unwelcome… Wait! Should she be worried he'd known she wouldn't throw him out…!?

She gave her head a little shake to focus it and loosened her hand where it had clamped down over his arm when he'd asked.

He meant 'why hadn't she been the one to take him out on a date?' Unfortunately, that question wasn't any easier to answer. In some ways, it was even more awkward in fact.

"Aeris…" she whispered the name, staring in embarrassment as the drops of water chasing down the glass of the window. Her hand rubbed against his forearm, nervous. It was hard enough to find an answer anyway, much less with his body lying like hot coals, covering and heavy and warm, around hers. He waited.

"Aeris wanted to take you," she stumbled over it. "I thought – I thought – " what had she thought?

"I thought you'd have fun with her."

He made a noise to show he'd heard but it was noncommittal. Then he shifted his head so it rested against the side of hers, body moving to shift hers somehow impossibly closer as he relaxed. It was quiet for a very long time and she felt his breathing starting to slow. It surprised her to realize she was starting to feel a little drowsy too. He was very warm and smelled familiar. More…

She felt safe this way. Had she not felt safe before?

His drowsy voice wove in with the sound of falling rain against her ears. Half asleep, what he mumbled just before he drifted off didn't make any sense to her but half asleep it didn't occur to her to do anything but hum in agreeable response. When she woke up the next morning alone in her bed, the room empty of any signs but her own, only then did it occur to her to wonder if she'd heard him right. Because what she'd thought she'd heard still didn't seem to make sense. Had he really chuckled:

'I kissed the dragon'?


	11. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the prompt was 'Cloud lusts after another man's girl'

He wanted her.

It was a hopeless want, the kind that lived in his stomach, clenching, hungry for her laugh,

her look,

her touch.

She belonged to someone else,

someone better,

but Cloud ached when she gave him her smile, wanting it for himself with a devouring need. He wanted her

to believe in _him,_

to reach for _him_,

but knew it was really another man she did all those things for

even when her eyes were on him.

Cloud Strife wanted the dark-haired brawler.

He knew she was meant for someone else.

The him he always failed to be.


	12. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when you play the original game, instead of following you around like the Remake, Cloud's team just - vanishes into his body. My nephew thought this was the wildest thing the first time he played it and of course I had to write a fic for it. Also check out [Party in My Pants by Inyou](https://www.deviantart.com/inyuo/art/Party-in-my-Pants-106975435) on DeviantArt. Posting this today for [Cocopops1995](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocopops1995/pseuds/Cocopops1995)

Frankly, it was the pink that worried him.

Yes, he should probably be more concerned about certain other aspects – the most disturbing being how in the hell it happened in the first place – but mostly… it was the pink.

He hadn't worried about the pink so much at first – the aforementioned 'how the hell?!' being higher on his list of concerns – but when he'd realized that their packs disappeared as well – and then noticed that Aerith had taken to bringing shopping bags in with her… shopping bags that didn't come out (he kept watch)… well, a guy had to worry.

Could they _leave_ things in there? Was that even healthy?

Hell – he didn't even know how it was even physically possible. Just – one minute he'd been tuning out Barret as the other man ranted on about not trusting him – and the next the giant black man had simply walked into his chest.

_ **Into his chest!** _

How the hell?!

He's spent a good five minutes hyperventilating, groping the awfully solid and normal feeling thing he'd always assumed was his perfectly average chest, and randomly looking behind himself because it was easier to believe that a giant black man with a gun for an arm could walk _through _him than _into_ him.

It had almost been as freaky as watching the guy suddenly walk _out_ of his seemingly solid chest several minutes later on the elevator simply to harangue him. Needless to say, he hadn't had the friendliest responses.

And he still hadn't been prepared when the guy did it a second time. Or the third time. Or fourth.

How? The? Hell?

Perhaps the worse part though was that Barret acted like it was nothing unusual. Like it was _normal_ to walk in and out of other people's bodies on a regular basis. Since when?! Cloud had never seen it happen to anyone else. He sure as hell didn't remember doing that to anyone else himself and Barret was his first – and, damn it!, that sounded just about as weird as it probably should…

Point was - if it had freaked him out when Barret did it, he had taken it even worse when Barret and _Tifa_ disappeared into to him later! Because – he knew Tifa. He'd grown up next to Tifa. Tifa was about as normal and solid and _real_ to him as the ground under his feet or the sword in his hands. More so. She was… _Tifa_. A lot in his life might not make sense – but – this was Tifa. She was real. She _made _things make sense. So when she just walked into his chest after Barret and – disappeared – he almost passed out. Until the shock set in. Because – it was so abnormal, it had to be normal, right? Everyone was acting so calm about it – it had to be rational and he was the only one that just, somehow, had something weird going on inside him.

He was a little used to that feeling already. Shit! Maybe the voices in his head were people that had walked into his chest and had never come out and he'd forgotten they were in there!

After his mini-panic attack over that he'd done the only thing a guy could do. He'd shrugged and made do as best he could.

After a while, he'd gotten kind of used to people disappearing into his chest on a regular basis. It was still a little… weird. If he paid attention, for just a second, he could actually feel the press of them and his vision would go a little funny, like he was looking inward instead of outward. Needless to say, he didn't often make it a point to pay attention. Instead he just accepted it.

In a weird way, he came to like it. He'd realized it first with the girls but it had spread. Because… if they were inside his chest – then they couldn't get hurt. Or lost. He couldn't lose them if they were inside him. He could keep them safe and keep a proverbial 'eye' on them. Sure, they came out whenever a fight happened but… but he didn't have to worry about one of them getting in trouble because he wasn't nearby or getting separated from them.

He'd actually, after a bad fight a couple of times, wondered if he could just keep them safe inside him all the time. Except he seemed to have no control over when they came or went – even though he'd tried just for the hell of it… and because Cait Sith always made him feel weirdly bloated whenever that damned stuffed moogle rode around inside him.

As time went on though, he started to wonder what it was like for them. They never talked about it and he felt awkward about asking what his insides looked like. It seemed… rude somehow. Was it all guts and blood and muscle and hot and sticky and uncomfortable? Or was it like a little room with comfortable couches and an icebox for when they got hungry? Did they fall asleep when they went in or were they awake? And… if they were awake, were they aware of what was going on outside? He thought they probably were. They always knew when to come out to help with a fight and sometimes one of them would say something that indicated they knew what was going on when they were in there… (He was especially careful about how he responded when strange women hit on him when he had one of the girls inside him. It just seemed like the kind of thing he didn't want to risk. After all, what if they got mad and decided to _break_ something in there?)

It did make him feel awkward about going to the bathroom though and he still didn't know whether the girls or the guys made him more uncomfortable over that.

If he didn't look, could they not see as well, or did they have windows in there, or monitors or something that didn't need his eyes to see out of?

Somehow, hearing voices and sometimes not being sure about his past wasn't the largest problem he had anymore. Not by a long shot.

Like… did Nanaki shed in there? And, if he did, where did the hair go? Did it just lay around for the rest of his natural life, a fuzzy red coating over the entire inner space or did his body, slowly, slough it off? And if it did – how? He wasn't sneezing red hair out his nose or anything. And – what about the ash and smoke from Cid's constant cigarettes? It wasn't as if the guy put them out before he'd disappear in. So were there just clouds and clouds of constantly thickening smoke filling the place in his chest or did it leak out of his ears at night? And what about the dynamite the guy apparently carried in his jacket? Did he ever forget a stick or two and what happened if he did!?

He found he was starting to get picky about choosing Cid or Red for his team simply based on those questions.

Still, Tifa never smelled like smoke or dog/cat/critter whenever she came out… She was really good at keeping her living space clean too…

He was leery about taking Yuffie on his team too but that was because he was worried she'd steal something and what if it was his kidney or something equally important? Or worse – what if she got motion sick riding around inside him and puked?! How were you supposed to hose out something like that?

He didn't want Tifa to have to go in there with a mop and bucket.

He figured the worse Barret probably did in there was put his muddy boots on the furniture. Tifa probably cleaned up said mud and he kind of liked having her in there anyway so he didn't have to worry about her being out of his sight and getting hurt. Vincent probably read cryptic and depressing books of poetry and maybe pulled the curtains to block out the light. Aerith though…

Cloud, eyes narrowed, was starting to get suspicious about those shopping bags she kept bringing in with her.

Somehow it was all too easy for him to imagine Aerith redecorating his interior without telling him.

And she had this really, really, _really _strong penchant for pink things.

He wasn't sure it was polite not to include someone on your team just because you were worried about ending up with a pink interior though.

Besides… Aerith was kind of _pushy _about joining his team sometimes.

He was sitting there, worrying about it, in fact, late one evening in front of the Cosmo Candle, when Tifa came over and sat down next to him. She fidgeted for a minute and then asked:

"Cloud… can you carry something for me?"

He made a noise and held out his hand and she put a little carved figurine in it. In the firelight it was hard to tell but it looked like some kind of Nanaki type of creature carved out of sandstone and it was still warm from her hands. When he glanced back at her, she looked embarrassed to be caught buying such a frivolous trinket but he had just wanted to tell her it was nice.

She deserved to have nice things. Gaia knew she'd lost enough over the years. It seemed stupid to point it out to her though. He was sure she knew she deserved nice things. With a grunt, he turned to his own pack and fished out one of his shirts, carefully wrapping the little statue so that it wouldn't chip or break. She'd given it to him to take care of. It seemed very important that he didn't let it get damaged.

"It would be safer in your pack," he pointed out and she looked down and away, sparking his suspicions with her behavior.

"Oh, I – I don't have room. Any more room. To – to carry things."

He reached behind her and prodded the canvas bag on her back. It certainly felt full. Jammed full in fact and was that - ? He caught at the glint of fabric when she twisted to get the backpack out of range and the silk scarf slipped out of her pack in a long strand. She watched in horror as he slowly reeled it in around his fist.

A long, silk, transparent _pink_ scarf…

"That's mine! For my hair – " she tried to snatch it back and he used the opportunity to pop the buckle on her pack. More fabric spilled out.

Pink fabric.

_Lots_ of pink fabric.

Her cheeks flushed and she started gathering up the fabric with the sparkle of panic in her eyes.

"For a dress! I'm – making a dress. Out of – pretty curtains and things." She snatched the fuzzy pink throw pillow out of his hands.

There was really nothing for him to say in response to that. He simply kissed her. Strangely, after that, she didn't protest in the slightest when he threw all the pink home décor into the fire.

They never mentioned it again. But he never complained when she wanted him to carry something of hers in his pack. And, after that, he didn't worry about bringing Aerith along on his team anymore.

He just always made sure he brought Tifa too.


	13. His World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reality is often nothing more than how you look at things

_He watches the rain  
Not through the glass of the window  
But instead he watches its reflection  
Against her pale skin as she sleeps.  
_

_He watches the sun  
Not with eyes on the sky  
But instead he watches the way it  
Catches in her hair when she turns suddenly to look at him.  
_

_He watches the moon  
Not by the shadows it casts on the wooden floor once the lights are gone  
But instead he watches it fill the hollows  
Of her collarbone and wonders if trapped light has a taste.  
_

_He watches the world  
Not by the rushing blur it gives him as it unwinds in front of his eyes  
But instead he watches it in every shade and shadow and point of light  
That shows over her quietly expressive face._


	14. Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trying to explore a concept and fit it into words. Set during the Lifestream incident

He wanted her to love him.

Sitting on top of the water tower with the sky of liquid green above and the empty landscape below… he wanted her to love him. Somewhere, on the edges of his thoughts, he knew he should be thinking of something else. Something Very Bad and something that, whenever his mind accidentally strayed close to it, immediately had him scuttling away. Something that was painful and something, he thought, that just might shatter him completely if he ever looked too close. So he thought about _her_ instead. Because, somehow, that train of thought was Important too. And he wanted her to love him.

He had wanted it for so long, with such a familiar ache that when the small voice finally asked:

_'why?'_

he almost ignored it.

Why did he need her to love him? What a stupid question. He needed her to love him because –

Because…

Because she was Tifa.

'But why was _Tifa's _love important?' that small part of him wouldn't leave the question alone and, trapped and alone on the tower, he had nothing to distract him from its voice.

Because… because she was **Tifa**. Wasn't that enough? But even as he thought it, his conscious twinged at him and he winced, rubbing absently at his thin child's chest.

What made Tifa's love so special…?

Well, he answered it, brows coming down in his pale face, she was Tifa. She was special. She was important. She was the most special, important thing in the entire village – which might as well be the entire world. If she, being special and important, decided that she loved him that would…

That would make him special and important.

Being loved by something, someone, so special, so important, so central – it would mean he was worth something. That he really was loveable. That… that someone so amazing would love him – that would mean there must be something pretty amazing about him too.

If Tifa decided she loved him, it would prove, to everyone else – to himself – that he was worth loving. That he was important. That he was someone pretty special too…

It was a good answer – no….

No.

It was a bad answer.

It was a horrible answer and sitting there in his child's body, his adult mind realized it.

It was a selfish answer and he felt suddenly depressed for it.

Really? He wanted her love just so that he could use it to prove he was worthwhile?

Thinking it made him wince and it made his stomach hurt.

Selfish men wanted women on their arm to show off, to brag about. To show the world how impressive they were, that they could have a woman like that interested in them. He didn't want Tifa just so he could brag about her! Did he?

Did he…?

Did he really just want her to love him so that he could prove to everyone else he was worth loving…?

That was a bad reason to want her love.

He couldn't be that shallow, could he? That childish?

No. No, he wanted her to love him because… because Tifa's love felt like hot oil in your joints and springs of steel in your bones. Because… because when she looked at him with those eyes of hers, he knew, he just knew – he could leap a building for her. He could take on the world. He could do anything – anything at all – that she asked him to.

Tifa's love drove the nightmares away…

That wasn't strong. That was needing her for weak reasons. He had always wanted to be her hero. Not… not to have her be his.

Except… she was. Because she was stronger than anyone he knew when she protected someone with her heart. She never gave up; she never gave in. She just… held on. Even when someone didn't deserve to be held on to anymore…

The way he didn't deserve to be held on to anymore.

But he could still hear her, searching for him. He could hear her _out there_. Calling his name.

She made him strong… but she also made him aware of how weak he really was. Because sometimes… sometimes he just wanted to hide in her arms.

Real men didn't feel that way. Real men never wanted to hide or needed comfort. Tifa needed a real man to love.

Why would he want her to love someone like him?

Except… he did.

He wanted her to love him.

He wanted her to love him because he loved her.

No. That was a stupid reason too. There were plenty of guys that loved, or thought they loved, Tifa. She couldn't – wouldn't – fall in love with every single one of them for that reason.

Even if he had loved her first and loved her longest.

Except… except he hadn't been very good at showing that he loved her.

He was never there for her when she needed him; he was too unsure about how he should act when he had wanted to show her. Part of him said to be suave… except he always felt stupid and fake when he was being suave.

He always felt like it wasn't enough.

Like it wasn't… right.

He wanted to be right for her.

He wanted to be everything she needed.

He wanted… he wanted to be able to show her that he loved her.

Because… because that was more important than being… loved by her…?

He wanted… he wanted her to love him. But – more than that – so much more than that he wanted to be able to love her.

He wanted to love her.

_He wanted to love her..._

It had to be the oldest thing he'd ever known and yet the sudden realization hit him as hard in the chest as Bahamut's bolt.

He wanted to love her.

He just – when it came down to it – he just wanted to love her.

Her – Tifa. The laughing little girl, the piano player, the motherless child, the bar maid with fists of steel and broken-hearted eyes. The scars and the beauty and the softness and the iron. The woman that always gave, the one that never asked, the one that worried more about whether he was all right than the fact she was in an ugly situation and he was in a dress. The one he'd worshiped as a child, cherished in his memories during adolescence and – and who had never left him through the entire confused, broken, hopeless situation since. He wanted…

Oh, Gaia… how he wanted to just be able to love her the way he'd always wanted to…

And maybe… maybe that was a good enough reason to want her love in return. Because… because, if she loved him, he would be able to love her the way she should be loved. Because… maybe… just maybe… if she loved him, he would be allowed to say the things and do the things for her that would show her how much he loved, had always loved, her. And it would be all right and it wouldn't make her uncomfortable or nervous and she might actually smile… for – for him… if she loved him and let him love her in return.

Even if he couldn't be suave and bold and noble… maybe, if she loved him, she'd understand what he meant when he tried to show her his love in all his stumbling, awkward, stilted ways.

If she loved him…

If she loved him – maybe - she'd forgive him for loving her in the first place.

Because – she deserved better than him. He was – something was broken. It felt newly broken when he prodded it delicately with his memory and yet, underneath that, it felt older still. As if something had been broken for a very, very long time…

He shied away from digging too deep to find out what that meant but the point remained. He was – very broken. Somehow. And Tifa deserved someone – very not broken.

Someone wonderful. Someone as amazing as she was.

And he… wasn't.

He was never going to be.

If he really loved her – shouldn't he want her to love someone else?

Except he didn't. Even in the child's body, his fists clenched and his teeth bared. No! No, he didn't want to give her up to anyone else.

He should…

If he really loved her, he would…

**He wouldn't!**

It… it didn't matter. He was stuck here and she was… there. Wherever_ there _was, out beyond the sick green.

Somewhere out there – where she called his name.

His name. Not someone else's. **_His_**.

She called his name.

Even after he'd failed her. Even after he'd been broken. Again. Even… even though he didn't deserve it.

She called for him.

That counted – didn't it? He stood up from his perch on the well and looked at the sickly sky above him. That counted. That she was calling him. He didn't know why she was calling or what she wanted but… but she was calling.

She was calling him.

And he loved her. And he thought – maybe – she loved him back. And it didn't matter if they didn't know exactly what that meant or how to make it work or how to show it – yet. Because they could figure it out. And however he'd gotten _here_ and she'd gotten _there_ – if she was calling him than it wasn't too far away.

It was never going to be too far away.

Thin brows came down in a small face and his soft fists clenched in determination.

Whatever was wrong, however he'd gotten here – he'd fix it. For her. Maybe… maybe _they'd_ fix it. And it might not fix right away or it might break again but he'd keep trying. Because…

Because he loved her.

And because – just maybe – she loved him too.

And it didn't matter why – it just mattered that it was.

Clutching the barrel of the well, he raised his face to the swirling sky above. And when he called her name it wasn't a child's voice that carried the sound up through the sticky green and into the darkness beyond.

Because – maybe – he needed her to love him for selfish reasons. But – maybe – he could love her for ones that weren't.


	15. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for a LiveJournal 'kiss battle' where character space was limited. She can't always be the one giving, yet she is.

She gave too much.

She always did. Too much work, too much self-sacrifice, too much of herself. For all of them.

For him.

So when he didn't see her among the haphazard pile of their sleeping teammates, his gut nudged him to go hunt her down. Not that she wasn't perfectly capable of looking after herself, she just...

She just did that too much too.

He found her in the buggy and the sight made one edge of his tight mouth twitch. She'd obviously been in the process of trying to repack their gear to give them all more room - something that wasn't necessary, wasn't important, was thoughtful and caring and quietly nurturing...

But, just as exhausted as the rest of them, she'd fallen asleep, half draped over one of the seats. It looked uncomfortable and softly flexible the way only Tifa could ever be. It would make her ache when she woke up though and so he leaned in and gently extracted her. She murmured and sighed but didn't wake as he lifted her and carried her back to the others. Careful, as if she was breakable, he lowered her down into his own bedroll since she hadn't set hers up and tucked it around her. That, he decided, looked better. Brushing her hair back from her face, he leaned in and kissed her. It was supposed to be a 'thank you' kiss on her forehead, one she would never know about and he'd never admit to. It missed and hit her slightly parted lips instead.

Angry at himself, he stood up and moved away to take first watch.

She did too much. She gave too much.

He always took too much.


	16. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its all pretend. Maybe.

Filthy. Everything seemed so filthy to him. He realized he shouldn't even notice, much less care. He was hardly clean himself by any stretch of the imagination, his own clothing dusty and marked with sweat and dried blood. They were all like that, tired out and worn down and dirty. And yet, somehow, walking into the little town, all he could think of was how much worse off then them it looked. Filthy and beaten down and ugly.

"Hopeless." The young woman walking next to him whispered it, tired enough that she was letting her thoughts slip out verbally. She did that when she was tired and it sparked something warm in his chest to realize that she'd always done that. That he actually remembered that about her.

He _remembered_…

It shouldn't have meant anything, but to him, it meant everything. It made his chest feel suddenly a little bit lighter despite the exhaustion and the ugly, _hopeless_ surroundings. He had remembered something that was entirely his own memory. Behind them their last team member grumbled.

"Probably got shit for food here." The big man sighed. "An' I'll eat it too, I'm so hungry."

They were all tired. They'd been fighting monsters and walking and sleeping out in the grass for days now and anything looked good. The thought of an actual mattress under his back, no matter how lumpy, almost made Cloud groan in anticipation. He was their leader though, even if he sometimes wondered why they still followed him so faithfully considering some of the things he'd done, and it was his job to look after his team. Even, and maybe especially, when it was an abbreviated team like this one was.

He'd failed a lot lately and yet somehow it was the small failures that bothered him the most. The failures that the rest of his team looked at him with trusting eyes and shrugged off. The times he didn't manage to take care of _them_. He'd started this journey without meaning to and for a long time hatred and revenge had been his muddled reason for it. He'd even entertained the comforting impression that he was doing this to save the planet itself for a while because that was an awfully noble reason and what better reason could he have? Except, it wasn't enough because it was too big and impersonal and somewhere along the way after his dip in the Lifestream and the fact they'd all stayed with him anyway and even, insane as it made all of them, still followed his lead – somewhere along the way he'd realized…

He was doing this for them. Because he couldn't stand the thought of letting them down. Again. Because, something inside him had to keep them safe and make them happy and keep them from falling. _They_ – his little ragtag team of misfits and awkward individuals and flat out certifiable nutcases… they were the reason he kept pushing himself onward toward the inevitable end. Because of them he wanted the sun to rise tomorrow and he wanted that hateful new red moon out of the sky and he wanted…

He wanted to keep them safe…

It was big talk from someone that wasn't even sure he wouldn't go off the deep end the next time he ran into Sephiroth and turn into a puppet again…

"Come on," he turned their weary steps toward what he hoped was an inn. It was the largest building in the area and seemed to have a lot of plastic coated windows. It sagged in the middle and the edges of the building were worn down and discolored. Hopeless, she'd called it and he realized it was that, not the dirt and careworn aspects, that made the place so ugly to him. It didn't matter. They just needed beds and hopefully some hot food. Just for the night and then they'd be on their way again.

The innkeeper looked apathetic when Cloud pushed his way in the creaking door and Cloud couldn't find the energy in him to respond with anything but the same. Ugly town, ugly man, ugly building… he wouldn't care if the beds were ugly though. He would be checking to make sure the lock on the door was sturdy however… until he remembered that the windows were all stapled down sheets of plastic and almost laughed at himself.

"Three beds, one room. Where can we eat?"

"Two beds," the key got pushed across the counter top to him without much care. "Boarding house across the road has food. Pay up front."

Cloud took the key and frowned to himself. Two beds. Everywhere they'd gone had three. Two beds was going to make it… awkward. Maybe he should get a second room…

The door pushed open and Cloud could feel who it was so he didn't turn as he counted out gil. The way the man at the counter suddenly sat up however made him tuck his chin to hide the smile. She had that effect on men. Even tired and covered in mud and monster blood with her hair tangled and loose around her shoulders, Tifa Lockhart was enough to make any man's breath catch in his chest. She did it to Cloud all the time and didn't even know it.

He laid the gil on the counter and decided to talk things over with the other two before he got another room. None of them said it but they'd gotten used to sleeping near each other and it was actually disturbing not to hear that soft noise and feel those presences in the dark. He supposed if it came down to it, he'd take the lonely room. He just hoped one of the other two of his team thought of a better solution first. He didn't like being alone at night when there was only silence, the voices in his head, and his tangled thoughts to keep him company.

Tifa was standing with her arms lightly hugging herself in the doorway, watching him when he turned and he gave her a little smile. She looked as if she was going to fall over right there. What he wouldn't do to find her a nice hot bath in a clean tub somewhere private. She'd like that. She didn't complain and she was just as tough as any of the men on the team – tougher than some in fact if you counted Cid and the way he fell asleep like a narcoleptic and couldn't do anything without a cup of tea nearby - but he didn't want her to have to be. She smiled back at him and it was one of her warm smiles that softened her face and made her eyes go warm and wine tinted. He liked to think that she only smiled that way for him because he'd watched and hadn't seen her give it to anyone else, but he wasn't sure if he was just being stupid. He'd been stupid a lot lately and he didn't want to mess things up anymore by still being that way. He cupped a hand under her elbow and guided her back outside. He was allowed to touch her that way and it still surprised him. After the Lifestream… he was allowed to touch Tifa Lockhart because they were friends, close friends. Maybe even, if he could manage it without sounding like a needy idiot… best friends. It was still a concept he was getting used to… touching people. He hadn't before, not if he could help it, and he was still having a problem with it now. It was just… easier to touch Tifa than anyone else. It always had been. She was the closest one to his soul and he wondered, sometimes at night while he sat watch over her as she slept, what exactly had happened in the Lifestream. He wondered… if she'd lost a piece of her soul inside him somehow. Considering all the other voices and personalities he had inside him… he didn't think it would be so terrible if there was a little part of Tifa there as well. Maybe that was why all the other noises in his head had been quieter since the Lifestream. Maybe she brought them peace the way she always did to him.

Barrett was waiting for them under the awning of the inn and beyond that it had started to drizzle. Cloud sighed silently. Instead of being misted and water colored the way rain usually managed, the town somehow looked even more bedraggled and beaten down. The packed earth of the main track through town was turning to bland colored mud and the air was starting to feel sticky and chilled.

"Food's across the way," Cloud gestured with his chin and remembered to let go of Tifa's elbow now that they were standing still again. Barrett just shook his head, not even having the energy to curse, and without a word the three of them darted across the street, mud splashing up to stick to their shoes and lower legs before they reached the dimly lit interior of the next building.

If outside was chilly, inside was stuffy and overly warm. Cloud sometimes wished his nose wasn't as good as it was because he could pick up the smells of old vomit, dried blood, and overly greasy food past the almost overwhelming scent of unwashed bodies and trapped smoke. His eyes adjusted better to dim light though and so he slid a hand under Tifa's elbow again and guided them toward the back of the crowded room. He always took a table with a back to the wall and in a corner if possible. It wasn't a habit he saw any reason to stop.

Tifa was drawing looks even though she had her head down and was barely managing to follow Cloud without stumbling. Cloud kept her well clear of the more aggressive looking tables. She was perfectly capable of breaking the arm of anyone that tried to grope her but so were he and Barrett and he thought he and Barrett would probably be the first ones to act on the desire too. With a nudge, he had her slide into the booth first and then took the protective spot on the outside of the bench, propping his giant sword against the wall within easy reach. Barrett slid in across from them and glowered around the room. Cloud didn't but he had still taken it all in and he'd noticed there were very few women in it. The ones that were…

Tifa leaned against the wall with a sigh and shut her eyes, tucking her legs up on the bench under her only the way a very flexible woman with amazingly long legs could and Cloud looked away from the contrasting pale of her skin with the dun colored mud that had splashed on it and concentrated on finding a harried waitress.

The sooner they all got some sleep the better.

"Don' like this," Barrett rumbled after they'd gotten drinks planted in front of them and the waitress had flounced off to get their food. Cloud knew she had been flirting with him because that's how they made their tips but he'd been too tired to want to deal with it. Next to him, eyes still closed, Tifa had an amused little smile on her face which was as loud as if she'd had the energy to tease him. She was the only one in the group that teased him. Cloud didn't like being teased but she had a way of doing it so gently and affectionately that, somehow, it was okay when Tifa did it. Sometimes, he even found himself enjoying it. It made him want to tease her back but he didn't know how and he thought if he did it wrong he might break the strange new closeness he felt between them. They'd been close before but since the Lifestream…

"What?" Cloud pulled his tired thoughts out of their comforting loop and looked at the large man across from him.

"I don' like this," Barrett repeated, shifting his gun arm restlessly. "Place's got the feel of too many people tucked too close. Makes for bad feelings real fast."

Cloud blinked at Barrett. He would never, on his most delirious, multiple-personality day, accuse the big man of being insightful. However, if a man that had lived in the Midgar slums thought the situation was crowded and unstable because of it, Cloud paid attention. His blue eyes lifted and scanned the room again and he had more people flinching back from their unnatural brightness than those that hadn't been looking in the first place. He was used to their drawing attention but this was more attention than usual. It woke him up from the stupor he'd been sliding into and he met Barrett's eyes over the table.

"We'll eat fast and go. We're all staying together tonight."

The dark man nodded and his eyes slid to Tifa who had all but fallen asleep tucked in the corner. Cloud watched his scarred face soften and resisted the urge to smile himself. You knew someone was special if they could turn Barrett into mush without even doing anything other than existing. He'd wondered about their relationship at first. The closeness had annoyed him and between that and Barrett's strong personality, Cloud had found himself going out of his way to annoy the other man. He hadn't seemed to have been able to help himself. During the journey though he'd come to respect and even like the other man and he got how Barrett felt about Tifa. It wasn't romantic.

The food came and Cloud wondered if the waitress had spit in it. Looking down at the unappetizing mess, he didn't think it would have made any difference if she did.

"Teef," he reached out to give her a gentle nudge and his hand fell on the curve of her bare calf before he realized it. She made a groggy, humming noise and didn't seem to notice his slip or the way he snatched his hand back to keep from offending her. It had been his gloved hand and so skin hadn't touched skin but…

But his palm on that hand still tingled maddeningly and he frowned down at his plate.

He was her friend. She had enough men that thought of her in other ways. He never wanted her to think he was the same way and lose that beautiful, vulnerable openness that was always in her eyes when she looked at him.

She shifted next to him and let out a quiet sigh as she looked down at the food in front of her and he knew she was lamenting the lack of a stove. He'd realized that she actually liked to cook and even more than that, she liked to cook for other people. It made her feel good and, since she was so good at it, Cloud supported the idea entirely. Especially when she was cooking for him. It was always delicious but more… there was something… personal about it. It felt… warm every time she set a plate or bowl down in front of him and he knew, without a single doubt in his mind, that she'd made it specifically for him. Just because she wanted to do it. For him.

She didn't complain as she ate now though and Cloud made it a point to inhale his own food. Her arm touched his companionably from time to time as she delicately spooned the mix into her mouth and that felt warm too. Barrett made another rumbling noise before they could settle too deeply into their food though.

"Gonna be problems gettin' otta here."

Cloud lifted his head but he hadn't been entirely unaware of the situation either. He could feel the familiar tickle between his shoulder blades. He exhaled in mild annoyance and looked. Sure enough, the tables between them and the door were watching their group and again, his narrow blue eyes made them flinch away. Usually the giant sword was deterrent enough but apparently this wasn't going to be one of those nights. With a male's natural instincts, Cloud knew the men weren't interested in him and Barrett. Most times, people were content to look and not touch and, as much as he didn't like that either, Cloud had learned to put up with it. Most of the time. Now wasn't one of those times apparently, though the group by the door were still trying to work up their nerve with liberal amounts of 'liquid courage'.

"Isn't there a back door we can go out?" Tifa asked, sounding more tired than annoyed and it told Cloud just how worn out she really was. Usually she was just annoyed. While Tifa was usually right there when it came to a fight, when it was over her she seemed to almost feel guilty and she tended to do everything, or almost everything, in her power to keep them from happening. It didn't help that she was in her barmaid's outfit but clothes shopping hadn't been a high priority and they hadn't exactly had time to pack before the Plate had fallen over Sector Seven.

There was no way she could wear the kind of clothes they'd been selling at the Gold Saucer the one time they'd actually had free time to relax. Costa del Sol had been even worse and Cloud's eyes automatically narrowed at their edges as he tried not to think of bathing suits and the woman he called his friend who happened to be sitting right next to him in the same mental picture.

"Only way out is through," he managed to keep up with the conversation at least and raised his eyes again. The men at the other table were still avoiding his gaze but they were getting slower at it.

"That's the way these places are," Barrett grunted, shoveling down his food. "Lots of hard men, not enough women to remind them to be civil. An' we've got a fine lady with us. They know she's not what they're used to but they don't know how else to act. Forgotten."

At Cloud's dry look, he shrugged.

"Corel wasn't always full of families. My pa brought my ma there an' she was one of the first ladies. She had to bang a few heads together until they learned to respect the woman."

Since, when he thought of the unknown 'Barrett's mom' all that sprang to Cloud's mind was the image of Barrett in a gingham dress and bonnet, it made the edges of Cloud's mouth twitch upward a little. He got the idea though.

Barrett gestured with his spoon apologetically to Tifa.

"It's cause you ain't with a man actual. So they think you're fair game."

Tifa made a noise and rubbed her hands over her face.

"Some days I hate men," she muttered and both of the men at the table with her shrugged in tandem, not taking it personally. Traveling with Tifa and Aerith had taught Cloud more about women and the way men reacted to them then his previous sixteen years put together. It had also taught him more about women themselves than he was sure he was comfortable ever knowing but that was part of living in close quarters with women that liked to talk girl talk even when the men were present. Tifa lowered her hands and exhaled.

"Can I just pretend to be with a guy? Will that make them stop?"

Barrett frowned and rubbed his chin as he looked at Cloud. Who looked blankly back at him for a full minute before he realized where the other man was going and his mako-blue eyes popped fully open. Any trace of tiredness was swept out of him.

"Don't think Spiky's aggressive enough to make them notice," he decided and Cloud felt Tifa wince next to him. He could sense her mentally backpedaling what she'd been too tired to realize she was stepping into even before she raised her hands, palms outward in front of her.

"I didn't mean – I mean – but – not like," her cheeks were adorably pink and Cloud realized just how cute it made her look at the same time he felt a strange burst of annoyance at Barrett. He shot the other man a narrow look. Barrett raised his own hand in defense.

"What? I'm just sayin' you're too laid back, Spiky. Men here, they're not good with subtle. You'd have to toss Tifa over your shoulder before they'd get the clue."

For some reason it just annoyed Cloud more and he felt a strange flare of anger. Then he heard Tifa stifle a giggle and turned hurt eyes on her to see she'd covered her mouth with her fingers and her eyes were shining. Seeing his look, she shook her head even though her eyes were still bright.

"No! Not – oh, Cloud!" she still had laughter in her voice and it stole his anger away from him the way her smile always stole his darker emotions away from him. "It's just – I'm sorry. It was the picture of you tossing a girl over your shoulder." Another stifled laugh escaped her and he found himself barely smiling as well.

"You don't think I'm caveman enough?" he asked and had the pleasure of watching his first attempt at teasing make her beautiful eyes go wide in shock before they wrinkled at their corners and bowed at their bottom.

"Cloud," she quietly laughed his name in delight and somehow that made it easier to reach out and wrap his arms around her to pull her in against his side. For her own good, he told himself and her eyes were so huge as they flew to his face that it made him feel strangely smug.

"Cloud – " her voice came out much differently this time, small and soft and confused and the smirk slid across his lips before he realized it. He'd never realized how adorable she looked when she was off balance and his long abused male ego felt a surge of pride to know that he'd been the one to put that look on her face. Adorable and still absolutely unguarded toward him. It soothed his worried heart.

"I can be a good boyfriend," he told her and told himself that he was talking about pretending and not actually being one as he cupped her cheek with his palm. She was so warm and soft against his side – he needed to touch her. She didn't pull away from him or stiffen and her eyes, still helpless and vulnerable didn't leave his. He watched the very edges of her lips tremble and found he didn't want to look away from her lips.

"Oh?" she managed weakly. Still, barely, teasing him and that friendly, gentle affection helped him work up the nerve to nod.

"I can," he promised, voice gruffer than he'd meant it to come out. Was she lifting her chin? Just a little? We're just pretending, he reminded himself. So…

its okay?

His eyes met hers and that rich, dark color swallowed him whole. So… familiar. As if it were his home and he'd been away forever and yet it had always been there… waiting for him to return. He'd thought – no, he knew he'd felt something for Aerith. She'd been playful and laughing and drawn him out of the shell he wore around himself. She'd made him happy and he hadn't questioned himself so much around her. She'd been too full of life for him to think about himself and he'd been glad. He'd liked that.

Tifa made him question everything about himself and yet, disappearing into her eyes, he felt as if, whatever answers he ended up with, it would be all right. He felt as if, no matter how far he wandered, she'd be there when he came back and he'd still see his home in the depths of her eyes. She made him laugh too… but sometimes she made him want to cry. And scream. And howl. And finally, really, for the first time in his life, relax. Aerith had made him feel brave. Tifa made him feel strong and weak, scared and capable all at the same time. It was… complex. And familiar and necessary too. Her eyes were still watching him and he saw the uncertainty starting to move into them. In a second she'd pull away with a shy laugh and make a joke and scoot carefully back to her corner of the bench… and spend the rest of the night watching him from the corners of her eyes and looking sad behind her smile…

"Mm." He answered her question a second time and lowered his head. His lips found hers and brushed them lightly. He'd never kissed anyone that way before but it seemed necessary to kiss Tifa before he drowned in the sudden realization that all he could smell at the moment was her and whatever soft smelling kind of soap she used that always seemed to linger on her skin.

"I can," he repeated against the softness of her mouth and her lips barely parted to let a silent whisper of his name slip past them. Her absolute defenselessness when it came to him slipped out in the way she said his name too and it made him feel protective and determined. His arms moved around her to enclose her against him better. It left her all but cradled in his arms and he nodded, barely there, continuing a conversation he'd forgotten the point behind, before lowering his mouth to find hers again.

The second kiss was better. He was more sure of himself and this time, after a stumbling moment on her part, her lips relaxed and softened under his. Only his ears picked up the soft, humming sound she made and between the two of them they found a way to fit their mouths closer together with a little tilt on his part and a slight lift of her chin on her part. That felt… even better… he managed to think as his arms wrapped more securely around her and he felt the tug of her long, slender fingers against the fabric of his shirt where they curled against his chest. A part of him was aware of the way her silk soft hair fell over his bare arms like water, of the way her chest was pressed against his, of how soft her skin felt, how good she smelled, how warm and gentle her body felt in his arms. Another part of him didn't know anything but the way her lips felt against and under his, how good she tasted and how every little rub and brush and slide sent pure electric and heat through him, until it was in his very blood, bubbling along as potent as the mako it flowed next to.

He wanted to keep her just like this forever.

Somewhere, very far away, Barrett cleared his throat. Cloud ignored him and it wasn't hard to do. After another long moment, Barrett coughed. Ignored again, he finally sputtered:

"All right, Spiky, all right! I was wrong. You can let her breath now." Another long pause and then he was laughing. "All right, you two. You're good. Shit, get a room or something."

Cloud was tempted to tell Barrett they already had a room and the man was on his own for the night but even thinking that much had his brain kicking back in. No. No, Tifa was more important than that. She always had been. He'd always known she was more. Reluctant his mouth left hers and he felt the escaping brush of her breath against his lips. Her body was relaxed and curled around his and it made him smile contentedly, head still lowered over her. He saw the dusting of pink when it rose through her pale cheeks and felt the way she tensed as she realized what they'd just done. For a second, his heart panicked. And then she turned her face into his throat, seeking shelter and safety in him, and his heart swelled dangerously in response. She was still looking to him for protection, still open to him – he hadn't lost her.

He raised his head to look at Barrett and the big man was shaking his head and still chuckling quietly, not about to challenge Cloud over whether the blond warrior had a right to hold the woman in his arms or not. It relaxed Cloud a little bit too and one corner of his lips shifted upward the slightest bit.

"Damn, Spiky!" From the look of it, Barrett would have pounded him on the shoulder if he wasn't safely across the table. "How long's that one been building up?"

'All my life', Cloud thought. 'Wanting to hold Tifa Lockhart in my arms and kiss her has been building up inside me all of my life.' He knew he should correct Barrett. He should tell the other man it was just pretend, just for show, that he'd only kissed her to warn off the other men. It would be a lie but it would be a lie that would keep things from changing between him and the woman that was still nestled close in his arms. Except… Except she was still nestled close in his arms and he didn't want to pretend. He'd spent too much time pretending already.

He didn't know what came next but he knew he didn't want to pretend anymore.

His eyes flicked up and caught the table of men by the door. They'd subdued and the eyes that had been watching flickered downward when they came up against the blue of his. It was just as well. Cloud, in that moment, would have personally beaten the tar out of anyone that looked at Tifa sideways right now. She was vulnerable because of him and no one was allowed to abuse that. Letting go of her with one arm, he reached out and retrieved his sword, sliding it awkwardly into place on his back before he gathered the woman that was turned into him for protection into his arms. He stood up and her head came up and looked at him, eyes surprised and again, he felt the surge in his male pride and a barely there smirk slipped across his lips.

"I'm not really an 'over the shoulder' guy," for the second time he teased her and, watching the laughter and light move into her eyes, he thought he just might learn how to do it more often. Her slender arms slipped up his chest and around his shoulders and she rested her head against him and didn't protest. Trusting him.

And Cloud Strife realized that, in the center of everything else, her trust in him had always been what he'd needed most of all.


	17. She Will Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a 'what might have been' crack at the mind of a merc for hire trying to be what he thought he was supposed to be. Damn what he wanted.

_Aerith…_

A bell went off in my head when she said her name. Aerith…

_"I have to go to Midgar, Cloud…_

_What do you mean' final letter'?!… _

_Aerith…wait for me…"_

A – memory? Something I'd heard? Or… thought? I couldn't remember. Couldn't – Aerith. Someone had loved her…

She was talking but I couldn't pay attention. Someone… someone had loved her… I knew it. I had – heard…?

**No.**

I didn't understand but that thought brought automatic panic. That – strange, horrible gut clenching… uncertainty. That – aloneness. The feeling of utter failure. I pushed it aside in immediate denial. No.

Who would I have heard it from? No one. I was just imagining that her name sounded familiar. That I'd known she was in Midgar. No. It wasn't that someone had loved her. It was that someone should love her. Would love her.

I would love her.

_Tifa…_

The ache rose in my chest. Familiar. As familiar as – more familiar than anything else. The – want. The never have. Tifa…

I wanted –

No. No, I couldn't. I was a SOLDIER. First Class. Cocky, cheerful, self-assured. That man would love Aerith. He wouldn't need –

_need… **I** needed...  
_

Tifa.

I shook my head at the way it ached. My head. My – heart. My hand found the edge of the Buster Sword.

SOLDIER. First Class. My sword. My place. Who I was now. I was –

I was living the life that should have been lived.

Aerith. Aerith must be loved. Someone needed to answer the letters I knew she would write. Someone needed to come to Midgar because she wanted to spend more time with them. I didn't – I didn't know how I knew it but – someone should have come to Midgar for her. Someone…

I would come. I had come. I would love her. I would live the life that should have been lived. That needed to be lived.

The light haired girl in front of me smiled and I smiled back. Solidifying my decision. I would love her. I would make things right again.

But when the soldiers came for her, I let their blood weep for me and it whispered a dark haired girl's name.


	18. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> et during game time, right after the Forgotten Capital. If you have been asleep for the past ten years or so, this chapter will have a HUGE spoiler in it.

She couldn't feel her fingers, her toes… or her heart. All around her the wind howled and tugged at her clothes. Snow pattered against her exposed skin and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, pulling the ragged red cloak that was over her shoulders closer around her frame. With each step she took, her boots made crunching noises in the snow. She bent her head against the cold and kept putting one foot in front of the other, following in the path through the snow that Cloud was breaking in front of her. It was cold even for someone that had grown up in the mountains.

She was so glad it was cold.

If she concentrated on the cold, she didn't have to think about anything else. She didn't have to think about what had just happened or who they'd just lost. Moving forward against the ice and snow and wind took up all her concentration, or at least enough of it that she could ignore the hollow place in her chest and the sick feeling in her stomach.

Aeris was dead.

Aeris was dead…

She blinked her eyes but it was against the snow that was catching and melting on her lashes, not because there were tears there. She had no tears. Her eyes felt like a desert and it bothered her. She needed to cry. Aeris deserved tears and yet… Tifa couldn't seem to give them to her. Happy, cheerful, flighty, determined, flirty Aeris… her death should be a release of warm water and sorrow but all Tifa could feel was… nothing. Her chest felt hollow and hard and her stomach felt cold and sick.

She'd cried for her mother when she'd died. She'd cried for her father. She'd even, when she was alone and lost and weak with recovery those first few weeks, cried for a burned Nibelheim and the last link she'd thought she had to a blue-eyed boy with hair like mountain sunlight. It was the years between that had taught her not to cry. At first she'd thought it was because tears made you weak and then she'd finally understood that it wasn't that tears made you weak, it was that they weakened everyone else around you. She hadn't cried since.

And yet now, when someone deserved her tears, she couldn't seem to remember how to give them anymore and somehow it seemed like such a betrayal. Aeris deserved her tears.

The wolves came out of the snow like ghosts but Tifa barely even lifted her head. It wasn't that she had a death wish or even that she didn't care –

It was that Cloud was systematically killing everything that got in his way, so quickly and efficiently and calmly that neither she nor Vincent had to move, or even had the time to think about moving before everything was dead and Cloud was trudging forward again as if he hadn't even noticed what he'd done.

She supposed it should have scared her and she didn't know what it said about her that it didn't.

She was glad Cloud was killing things.

In fact, she would have been perfectly content to sit huddled up in a ball in the snow, slowly loosing all the feeling in her body while he just killed and killed and killed the monsters that came out of the white. She thought… she thought he might have been comfortable with that too. They had Vincent with them though and Vincent kept walking forward and so they had to keep walking forward because he was behind them and so they couldn't stop.

When they reached the little village nestled in a mountain pass, it took Tifa a while to realize they had. She couldn't feel most of her face and her ears hurt even though she had the collar of Vincent's cloak up around them. She felt miserable and shivery and her brain felt dull. She followed Cloud up the stairs to the wooden porch and through the door into the inn simply because she'd gotten so used to following where he walked it was easier than stopping. Once he stopped though, so did she and the snow started to melt off of her boots and her hair and off the shoulders of the cloak, leaving slowly growing puddles of slush around her. A part of her felt guilty for making a mess but most of her just felt blank and empty. Blank and empty was comfortable though and she let it fill the hole in her heart and the hurt in her stomach until it clouded over and filled her eyes too. When Cloud started moving again, she didn't. It was nicer being blank and empty and still. If she stood still enough maybe the world would stand still too. Now that she wasn't going to die if she stood still, she thought she'd give standing still a try.

Until Cloud picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

The noise squeaked out of her as her stomach made contact with his shoulder and for a long second she could only blink as what was happening filtered through her foggy mind. It took longer than usual but a great deal of that had to do with the fact that what was happening, shouldn't be.

Except it was. She had a very good view of the stairs below her, a red cloak in the way, Vincent's shoes, her hair and Cloud's back. Brows starting to come down she wiggled her arms loose of the entangling cloak. It shifted her dangerously on Cloud's shoulder but his arm was firm over her thighs and she couldn't find it in herself to worry that he'd drop her. Cloud wouldn't drop her.

Cloud would never drop her.

He would however apparently haul her up the stairs like some monster out of a fairy tale in front of who knew how many people. She braced her hands against his back to lever herself up and shot Vincent a glare for not doing something. Barret would have done something. Vincent, looking strangely thin without his cloak, just looked passively back at her. She sneezed. She rubbed her nose. Then she batted at Cloud's solid brick of a back.

"Stop it," she hissed at him, not as intimidated by him as she'd once been even if she still didn't always recognize him. He ignored her but she'd expected that. She was learning who he was as they traveled together.

"Cloud – " the thump on his back wasn't exactly gentle, even if it wasn't hard. It made her hand tingle as the blood started to circulate painfully back into her fingers. He grunted in response to show he was aware of her - and doing things his own way. She exhaled and threatened:

"I'll bite you."

"Not yet," his low voice was gravel as he finished the stairs and strode down the hall. "Vincent," he turned to toss the other man a key. Tifa got a shifting view of a nice cream-colored wall and a polished wood floor with a runner carpet down the middle of it. Vincent's gold shoes stopped following when he caught the key. Tifa propped her hands against Cloud's back again and levered herself up to watch the gunslinger unlocking a door with a big brass number on it.

Cloud kept walking.

The lost sound escaped her before she even though about it. Where was Cloud taking her if it wasn't to their guest room? Her mind couldn't find any logical answer and she sneezed again as her body continued to adjust to something other than freezing to death. Cloud unlocked another door and she watched the hardwood floor give way to a thick looking carpet. He shut the door behind him and tossed the key on a low dresser.

"Cloud…?" the question came out weak, voice giving her away before her mind could even catch up with it to understand why. She turned her head and saw –

her stomach tightened reflexively and her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt against the small of his back.

They were in another room. A guest room. A guest room that only had one bed. A guest room that the rest of the party apparently wasn't going to be sharing. But – but - they _always_ shared a room! All three of them! Not two! Especially not two! _Especially_ not her being one of the two!

The panicked noise escaped her before she thought about it and her body automatically tensed to run even though she was still over Cloud's shoulder and incapable of the actual motion.

"Cloud!" his name escaped her in a squeak. Which he ignored as he walked into the bathroom – carpet changed to tile – and finally, _finally_ set her down on her feet.

In the tub.

And then he joined her and pulled the curtain closed.

"Wait – no! Cloud!" She braced her hands against his chest automatically as he reached past her, not even sure what he was doing, what _they_ were doing, but fairly sure they shouldn't be. What was - ? Wait! She didn't –

…_help_…?

The water came on and she made another noise and jumped as it hit her. His hand covered the back of her head and pulled her forward just enough so that she was against his shoulder and slightly sheltered from the sudden downpour by his own head. Behind them she heard the squeaks as he adjusted the temperature of the water. It – it hurt. Damn it, it hurt. She made a face against his shoulder and forgot to feel confused as the lukewarm water flushed over her through the red cloak and made her skin sting. His arms came around her, cloak and all, and held her against his own, much warmer form as the water continued to coax the blood back toward the surface of her skin. She sneezed again, violently this time, and he held her steady. For a long time, all she could do was huddle against him and shiver, body distinctly unhappy with the loss of numbness it had managed to find.

"I did not - I did not have frostbite - " she finally managed through her clenched jaw. She'd been a mountain guide when she'd been a kid, for Gaia's sake. It wasn't as if she didn't know what signs to watch for. He just grunted, still holding her tight with one arm while he reached past her to coax just a little more heat into the water. She finally shut her eyes weakly and gave up.

Cloud could be such an ass when he was being stubborn. She probably shouldn't think that so fondly.

Slow, he coaxed the temperature warmer, a long pausing degree at a time, and, just as slow, her body began to relax and then melt against him as the heat returned and then began to soak into her. He stripped Vincent's cloak off of her and then after a little bit longer, left her standing alone while he went to his knees and coaxed her shoes and socks off her feet while she rested her hands on his shoulders for balance. Her long hair fell down around both of them and clung like seaweed to his bare arms. His boots and socks joined hers, carelessly tossed outside the tub and when he stood up again he pulled her back tightly against him. It made her stomach flutter and maybe it was because the water was making her head fuzzy and relaxed or maybe it was that she needed to know someone was still alive or maybe it was just because it was Cloud but she reached up and wound her arms around his neck and shoulders and pressed her body close into his in response. His hands moved over her, tucking her tighter in against himself and she shivered again and it wasn't because she was cold. He stripped off his gloves and arm bracers without letting go of her and then dragged hers off of her wet skin too, adding them to the growing pile of wet clothes on the tile outside the tub. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and let him do anything he wanted. Because… it felt good. He felt good. And she was so, so tired of pretending he didn't.

He finally shut off the water and the steam hung in the air, soaking into her lungs. She felt drowsy and warm with little sparks going off inside her every time Cloud shifted the slightest bit against her. He wrung out her hair and the pleased sound slipped out of her before she could realize it and stop herself. He made a low, answering sound in his throat that might have been a smug chuckle or just might have been his own sound of contentment. Wrapping her hair around his fist with one hand, she felt him brace himself before sliding his other hand down to lift her. It was impossibly intimate but she was feeling so relaxed and boneless that when he lifted her, she trusted him and did what he wanted, wrapping her legs around his waist. His approving sound was her reward and he stepped out of the tub, letting go of her with one arm just long enough to pull a towel off the rack and wrap it around her before pressing her tightly against him again. She rested her head on his shoulder and let him carry her back into the bedroom.

He sat down on the edge of the bed with her still in his lap and reached up with the towel to run it carelessly over the top of her head. She gave him a narrow eyed look, peeking out through the soft fabric and, for just a split second, she was looking into the face of her bright eyed memory from Nibelheim. Cloud's blue eyes were crystal clear and laughing and the lines of his face had relaxed. Even his lips, usually just a hard, thin line, had softened and gone a bit crooked with a shy, playful smile. It was what she'd never thought she'd see again and she threw her arms around him so hard it knocked them both back over onto the bed. The playful ruffling of her hair stopped but his hands didn't and the towel was soft as he rubbed it gently over her. She lay on top of him and shut her eyes, not daring to risk another peek and find out she'd lost what she'd just seen, savoring that glimpse of the boy she'd fallen in love with so long ago. Finally, the towel stopped moving and his arms rested over her, holding her loosely but completely against him. He felt so warm and so solid and real that she found herself starting to fall asleep.

"Tifa…" his voice was so low it didn't disturb her drowsy state and she nodded her head against him to show she was listening without opening her eyes. Her chest didn't feel hollow when it was pressed up against his. One of his hands moved over her hair and that was new too. Cloud, when he did touch her, usually planted his hands as if they were growing roots and going to stay exactly where they were for the rest of time.

"You can't go to sleep in wet clothes, Tifa."

His voice was so emotionless and factual that it made her smile.

"Just for a minute," she argued sleepily. Because he was so warm and felt so good under and around her and she was so, so tired of being confused and miserable and lonely for him.

"No," he sat up, careful not to dislodge her and the way it made her body slid against his had her cheeks suddenly flushing and her brain kicking back in. Sometimes she felt so comfortable around Cloud, as if the distinction between their bodies was vague. He'd done that to her, broken right through any self-conscious barriers she had by simply, constantly ignoring them. Over and over and over again until she forgot they were supposed to be there in the first place. And then – there were other times… times that were growing just as quickly as the times she was comfortable around him when he confused her and made her body feel the most amazing, shocking things.

Like now for instance.

Suddenly she was very aware of the fact they were both in wet clothes that clung to them and the fact she was sitting in his lap in a way no good girl ever would. And, running a bar in the Midgar slums or not, Tifa still considered herself a 'good girl'. Cheeks burning and suddenly self-conscious and much, much more awake, she ducked her head and slipped off his lap, clutching the towel around her shoulders like a smaller, whiter version of Vincent's cloak. He watched her go and she was careful to hold her skirt down with her other hand as she stood but when she started to turn, his hand snaked out and caught her wrist.

His grip was like iron.

"No." Something in his voice was absolute.

Startled, she turned to look at him and found his blue eyes were hard and emotionless. He didn't let go of her wrist.

"Cloud?" She waited but he didn't say anything else and so she tugged her wrist lightly, towel clutched around her shoulders and over her chest with her other hand and explained: "I have to go change."

His head moved, a brief shake, and his eyes didn't leave hers.

"Not where I can't see you."

It took a long moment for what he'd just said to soak in. Her eyes went so wide there wasn't room for her cheeks to flush with color.

"What?!"

"Not where I can't see you," he repeated, voice just as low and determined as before and his brows, always low over his eyes anyway, started to come down even lower.

Her mouth went absolutely dry.

"C-Cloud…" she stumbled over his name and for a second the incandescent blue in his eyes flickered. His chin tucked just a little and his eyes left hers.

"I can't – " his voice was still emotionless but she thought, because she knew his voice so well by now, because she always listened so closely to him now, that there was something young hiding underneath it. "I can't let you out of my sight. I need - I have to know you're safe. I can't – " his hand had slipped from her wrist to hold her hand and his grip was tight. His eyes wouldn't look at hers. "I can't let you out of my sight because something might happen to you if I do."

And just like that – her heart broke.

She was used to him touching her but she felt much more unsure about touching him first. There was always that fear that he'd brush her off, even though he never had, or sit stoically and endure her the way he stoically endured so much. Hesitant, she stepped just a little closer. She reached out tentatively with her free hand and carefully, gingerly, stroked it over the shaggy hair that hung shadowing the side of his face. He didn't move and his blue eyes didn't flicker but she felt his attention in the coiled stillness. Still unsure but unable to stop, she sat down next to him, scooting closer, twisting her body a bit and tugged her hand out of his. He let her and his hand, now empty, stayed open and palm up on his thigh. His breathing was very carefully measured.

Gentle, she rested her hands on his shoulders and then slowly slid them around so that she was hugging him, holding him, even though he was unmoving and made of stone. She reached up with her fingers and stroked them through his damp hair, refusing to let go even though he wasn't moving and it felt awkward and her heart felt as if it would break if he pushed her away now.

"I'll stay," she whispered against the side of his head, tossing the last safety she had held around her heart away even though he'd never even know. "I'll stay with you."

It wasn't until she spoke that he moved, but when he moved it was as if something inside of him had just snapped and let loose something huge and rolling and unstoppable. His arms wrapped with sudden, desperate tightness around her and he hauled her roughly back into his lap again. This time both of her legs were on the same side of his hip though and she pressed into him, winding her body around his to hold him close in return. He bowed his head into her shoulder, she felt his face against her neck, and he made a sound in his throat that sounded like a stifled scream and a stifled moan at the same time, his fingers clenching almost painfully on her skin and the fabric of her clothes. It broke something inside her and suddenly - unexpectedly - the tears came. She twined herself as tightly around him as she could and she cried.

She cried for Aeris with all her plans about the future that were never going to come true. She cried for herself and how much she'd miss the first female friend she'd ever had. She cried for all of their friends who hadn't been there for Aeris' funeral and were never going to be able to see her one last time. She cried for a world that was suddenly a little less bright and hopeful, that meant, suddenly, just a little bit less than it had before. And she cried for Cloud and his broken heart that he wouldn't show except in that single, heart raw sound and the desperate way he held her.

She thought, just maybe, she cried for both of them when she cried for the lost flower girl.

She cried until she was finished, breaking down into the little hiccuping, shuddering sounds against Cloud's shoulder and he held her against him the entire time and didn't make another sound. Finally, finished and drained, she rested her cheek on his shoulder, eyes shut.

"Sorry," she whispered and his arms shifted to cradle her a bit more. He didn't lift his face from her hair. After a long moment though, what he said was:

"Your clothes are still wet."

For some reason it made her choke out a laugh and she leaned up to give his cheek a light, innocent kiss. The way she would have if Nibelheim had never burned and he'd never left and the darkness hadn't taken both of them the way it had since then. Rubbing at her eyes, she sat up and slipped off his lap again and, under his golden bangs, his blue eyes watched her closely.

"Turn around," she told him with a weak smile. "I'll dry off and change by the chair if you'll promise not to look."

Any other man would have teased or flirted or made a promise he didn't mean. Cloud just nodded in all seriousness and turned around on the bed to cross his legs in front of himself and stare at the snow piling up against the panes of glass. Tifa looked at the back of his head and felt hopelessly, helplessly the way she had fallen in love with him. Him, as he was now, as much as him, who he had been. How had he managed to capture her heart so quickly - again? Shaking her head sadly at herself, she went over to where he'd dropped their backpacks near the door and found clean clothes, which she changed into after she'd dried off. She sat down on the bed behind his back afterward and started to brush her hair out.

"Your turn," she told him softly and felt the bed move as he got up and went to his own pack. She tried to concentrate on her hair and not the fact that, whether she could see him or not, there was a naked man in the room with her. A naked Cloud Strife in the room, no less.

What was she doing?

What in Gaia's name was she doing?

What would her father think if he was still alive?

Her eyes suddenly flew wide and she made a hiccuping noise.

What would Vincent think? What did Vincent already think? Cloud had tossed the other man the key to a separate room and hauled her off to a different one and – her hand clapped over her mouth and she felt her cheeks go brilliantly red.

It wasn't that she thought Vincent would think less of her. The silent gunman had a way about him that said he wouldn't look twice at you if you sprouted an extra head. And it wasn't as if she was worried he'd spread gossip about her. It was just – it was –

She and Cloud weren't doing… _that_. What they did in private was strange and impossible for anyone else to even begin to understand – she didn't understand it most of the time herself - but… that was in private. It was mortifying to have someone think that she was… that she was that type of girl. That she was doing… that.

Cloud appeared in her field of vision again, a safely dressed Cloud, and gave her a mildly questioning look. She gestured with her brush to him and then the door and then made a wide sweeping motion to include the room. The very edge of his lips shifted the smallest bit upward and one of his blond brows rose slightly. She wasn't as intimidated by him as she'd been in Midgar though and she gave him a glare. He knew exactly what she was talking about!

With a soft growl, she thumped the brush on the bed next to her.

"Vincent's sleeping in a different room," she told him as calmly as she could and he gave her a dry look that asked why she was pointing out the obvious. She narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to buy his 'innocent' act. "We're not. What is he going to think? What if the others get here early? What are they going to think? What do all of those people downstairs think? Cloud – "

His eyes had gone a lazy, thick blue as she protested and the very edge of his mouth was starting to hook upward in something she recognized as one of his devastating smirks. With movements too graceful and smooth to belong to anyone that wasn't a SOLDIER, he shifted onto the bed to kneel in front of her, eyes on hers.

"They'll think 'lucky guy'."

"Cloud – " she managed weakly. She was trying not to let herself be overwhelmed by him, she really was. She'd gotten better over the time they'd been traveling together. But she was still astonishingly helpless against him when his eyes were this way and so intent on her. She fought the instinct that had her wanting to scoot away from him for her own peace of mind – because he'd just follow. He'd already showed her that in the past. And then he surprised her because his eyes softened, just a little, and he reached out and pulled her up against him as he tumbled back to lie down on the bed.

"They'll think you're mine," he clarified calmly, reaching out to flip the blankets up over them and then his arms banded tightly around her as he pulled her into his body. His voice was muffled by her hair as he flatly repeated: "You're mine."

It made her stomach take that wicked, twisted dip that only he could make it do and her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt before she could even think about resisting him. Against her better judgment, she inhaled the wonderful electric and storm wind scent of him where her nose was pressed into his throat.

She should protest that she wasn't his. Except… she was. In her heart, she thought she might have always been and even if he didn't know it, or didn't even care… it was true. Cloud Strife might never belong to anyone but himself, but her heart… it was his, even if it never mattered to him.

With an exhaled noise, he settled himself more completely against her and his body relaxed a little. His arms around her didn't though and she wondered just how long it would be before he would feel safe letting her out of his sight.

He certainly hadn't minded letting Vincent out of his sight.

"You didn't have to let Vincent think that," she chided drowsily against his skin, knowing she should be protesting _this_ and not what Vincent would think of this. It was just… it felt so good and she was so comfortable… It was too late to change any assumptions Vincent might come to anyway her mind told her. She might as well enjoy this moment while she had it. Cloud made a low sound in his throat in response to her words. It sounded surprisingly unfriendly even though she knew that he and the silent gunman got along astonishingly well.

"You were wearing his coat."

Her eyes blinked open, lashes brushing against his throat in surprise.

"I was cold. He was being nice."

Cloud didn't move against her and his low rumble simply repeated factually:

"You were wearing his coat."


	19. The Great Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long ago silly birthday gift for [Sekiharatae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekiharatae/pseuds/sekiharatae) because inquiring minds want to know

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s boxers.”

“I don’t know, Yuffie,” the answer is sing-song and comes with a head shake. “SOLDIER like their briefs. It helps keep things – controlled when they’re fighting.”

“Oh…? And how would you know, Miss Saint Aeris?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Nosy-ninja?”

“Psh, yeah, right. You’re just making that up. The magazine article says that a guy that wears boxers doesn’t like restrictions and needs breathing room. See? That’s totally Mr. I’m-too-sexy-for-friends! And the magazine says it’s extra points if they’re silk… I don’t get it.”

“There’s an article about guy’s underwear in a women’s magazine?”

“Oh, catch up, Aeris. All women’s magazines talk about are guys. And clothes. And hair care products.” Pause for effect. “And they say he’s a boxer kind of guy.”

“Well… if you’re so determined to find out – why don’t you ask?”

“Fine! I will!”

“You won’t.”

“I totally will! … Tifa, do you think Cloud wears boxers or briefs?”

“That’s not what I meant Yuffie – “

“You didn’t say who I had to ask, Aeris.” A pause. “Tifa?”

“I’m trying to sleep.”

A longer pause as both of the other girls’ head snap around to focus on the brunette’s back. Equal gasps from both of them.  
  
"You know!"


	20. It's Not Much, It's Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place on the first trip up to the Northern Crater. Sometimes the littlest things are everything.

Climbing. She was so, so tired of climbing. It was the only option though, in this weather, in this terrain, there was no vehicle with enough traction to make it up the sometimes almost vertical inclines and through the narrow passes that riddled this mountain range. So it was walk, and climb – and climb while walking and the switchback paths were the worse because it was the same scenery and you knew you were just walking back and forth and back and forth. The switchbacks were deceptive too because you’d reach the turn in the trail and hope for clean walking only to discover that it was just a little bit higher up and headed back the way you’d just come. It was tempting to just ignore the trails and climb straight up… but she knew the trails were there for a reason and if they simply tried to climb instead of walking they’d burn off all their energy too fast and still be stuck on the side of the mountain. 

They were drawing on enough of their energy already. She could see it in her companions. Barret and Vincent were expressionless and truding, which wasn’t that unusual for them but Yuffie had long ago given up trying to cheerfully bicker with anyone and now even her whining had stopped. Red walked with his head down and his tail dragging behind him and Cid hadn’t even found the energy to light another cigarette when his last one went out. Ahead of them…

Ahead of them walked Cloud and his shoulders were straight and level and his stride was relaxed and long. It would have been easy to blame the mako in his system for the fact he still had energy when the rest of them were simply concentrating on putting one boot in front of the other but…

But Tifa knew Cloud – because she’d watched him so closely for so long now. And so she saw the way he planted each foot firmly on the trail after each step and how, usually observant, he didn’t turn his head to the right or the left to watch. She knew his eyes probably still were but she also knew he’d fallen back on his hearing as his main awareness. He was just as tired as the rest of them – he just wouldn’t let himself show it. 

She understood why he was doing it. It still broke her heart just a little bit for him all the same. Was he ever going to get to be simply human?

In fact, it hurt her heart to see how worn down everyone was. They hadn’t had time to slow down lately, not now that Sephiroth had the Black Materia after the disaster at the Temple of Ancients. 

If Aerith was here…

Her heart gave a hollow beat in her chest. If Aerith was here… But the spunky flower girl wasn’t. And never would be again. And so there was no one to tease Red and Barret or joke with Yuffie or –

Or flirt with Cloud and appeal to his male ego.

No one to give Tifa a commiserating, conspiratorial smile with laughing eyes…

The sigh escaped her before she realized it and ahead of her Cloud’s shoulders stiffened and he stopped.

“We’ll rest here,” he decided, as if the middle of the trail was a natural place to stop for a break. Tifa knew it was because he’d – somehow – heard her sigh and knew she should protest… but she couldn’t bring herself to and everyone else was already dropping where they stood, huddling into themselves in the miserable weather. She felt like dropping too, especially now that she’d stopped – but Cloud was still standing, only half turned toward them and keeping guard while the rest of them relaxed and again her heart hurt for him and was strangely proud at the same time. She couldn’t let him stand alone though and so she slipped her pack off of her shoulders and opened it to rummage inside. It was a great deal emptier than it had been once – if something stalled them finding Sephiroth, they were going to run out of food. 

They weren’t out of food yet and so she dug out her precious last stash of chocolate and some of the flat bread. Folding it in half she put the chocolate in the middle and used the smallest hint of warmth from one of her Fire materia. Just enough to heat the bread and make the chocolate soft. Then she slowly worked her way down the line. Everyone got a fair share and it was sign of how tired he was that Vincent didn’t refuse his part. Walking back to the head of the group afterward, she could look back and see the tense lines on their faces fading while they chewed and it made the tension in her own chest relax. It was only warm chocolate – but it was something and it had helped and it made her feel good to know she’d done _something_, even if it was small and insignificant.

She joined Cloud and gave him the last piece.

“Where’s yours?” he asked and she realized he had been paying attention despite the appearance otherwise. She shrugged and gave him a smile. If she didn’t take a piece for herself it was just a little bit more for everyone else and no one had to know. She couldn’t lie to him about it though – he’d apparently been watching and he’d catch her at it.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m not really in the mood for chocolate right now.”

Electric blue eyes slid a look at her and for some reason she felt her cheeks coloring, though she hoped he’d blame that on the weather. Gloves hands moved with quick efficiency and he handed half of his own piece back to her. She took it meekly and the warmth didn’t leave her cheeks but it settled softly into her stomach as well. He turned away to survey the area again, taking a bite of the bread and she shifted back over to her own rock and hunched down on it to enjoy the small snack. A minute later though, she felt a blanket settle around her shoulders and looked up in surprise to see Cloud walking back to his original spot. The cloth smelled like him and she tucked into it a bit more and tried not to make it obvious she was pressing her nose into the weave.


	21. Under the Highwind - Kinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at one point in time I was going to try to take a crack at writing an 'under the Highwind' fic. It - did not pan out. But I did save the little fractions I wrote so they're going here for safe-keeping.

"

You used to touch me all the time,” her voice was quiet and her cheeks were pink. She wouldn’t look up at him but she didn’t back away either when he turned to face her.

“I did. Didn’t I?”

“Mm,” her answer was so quiet he wouldn’t have heard it without his mako and she ducked her chin just a little more so her bangs hid her. But she still didn’t try to shift away from him when he took the single step forward that brought them almost against each other. Feeling like a little boy, he reached out and his fingers nudged the underside of the hand she was fisting. Her hand relaxed and shyly, her fingers found his.

“I like touching you,” it came out before he could realize how it would sound and he inwardly winced. But the edges of her lips shifted upward, just a little and her fingers wound their way a little closer with his.

“I like – “ she cut herself off and he saw the way her cheeks went bright red. Something inside him suddenly felt smug and proud. Because he’d felt the soft flutter of her against his soul and he’d heard what she couldn’t say. It made him relax. Just a little. And as if to answer her, or to test the statement, he lifted his other hand and the pads of his fingertips ghosted over her cheek and the curve of her face. He watched her lashes flutter shut and the whisper curve of her lips again. But she didn’t move. And he realized… she never moved. She let him move her… but she never moved herself. Just… once or twice, when she was either so confused she needed reassurance or he had needed the reassurance and she’d somehow sensed it. She didn’t act as if it was because she didn’t want to…

Testing, he slid his hand down to the small of her back and crowded her, making her back up. Her hand found his shirt and curled – keeping him close – and she raised her face in surprise – but not rejection or fear – and she let him.

Are you afraid? He wanted to ask. Not of him. He would have recognized it if he’d seen it in her eyes. Of what then? Of… this? Them? 

Herself?

Her calves touched the rocks near the sheltered side of the hill and he pulled her down to sit on them while he knelt in front of her. It wasn’t a bed and a room in Kalm but he felt the sudden wash of the memory. Remembered as if it were just happening how badly he’d needed to touch her. How desperate he’d been to touch her and know that, out of everything that didn’t make sense, she did.

She always made sense.

Far too many times, she was the only thing that made sense to him.

Now it was his turn to do the same for her. 

He had kept her hand in his and he lifted it to his mouth now. Watching her over the rim of her pale skin as he kissed the inside of it. It was through the fabric of her gloves and even then he still saw the way her pupils widened and her breath jerked. It eased the tension in his chest just a bit more.

“I used to touch you all the time,” he reminded her softly and again her lips curved. This time the smile was still shy but it was a little bit more in response to his teasing. Her fingers curved tightly around his.

“You did,” she agreed, lips pressing against each other as she hesitated. Then her eyes, full of curiosity and trust, met his. “But you never kissed me. Not once.”

“I didn’t?” it surprised him and yet, it wasn’t as if he would have forgotten something like kissing Tifa Lockheart. No. He hadn’t kissed her. He remembered every touch he’d stolen, every caress and nuzzle and no… no, he hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t even tried.

He’d known better than he’d known himself that she was his in those days. Why hadn’t he ever…

It made him smile and he took her other hand in his and then rested their twined fingers in her lap.

“I wanted you to want me to.”

Her fingers moved against his and she watched them. Finally, very shyly, her eyes lifted to his.

“I wasn’t sure I wanted you to. Then.”

The almost confession made the edge of his lips shift upward on one side.

“Then?” he teased gently and watched her cheeks pink. What was he doing? He didn’t know the first thing about flirting or teasing or – or any of those things when it came to women. He should be stumbling over his tongue and just as blushing and shy as she was. A part of him certainly felt that way. But –

But Tifa was feeling shy and uncertain and she needed someone to be brave for her.

He could be brave for her. He would be brave for her.

Somehow, it didn’t seem quite as hard if it was for her.

He lifted their interlocked hands, because even he needed to borrow a bit of bravery sometimes, and pressed his face into them.

“What about now?” he mumbled into the leather and flesh of both of them and heard her unsteady inhale. His long abused male ego swelled again. 

It was no small thing to have a woman like Tifa Lockheart go weak and shaky for you…

“Would you like me to kiss you now?”

He raised his blue eyes to her face over the tangle of their fingers and watched the blush move over her cheeks but also saw the way her eyes went needy and liquid. He wanted to hear the word anyway, no matter what her eyes told him. He needed to hear the word.

Somehow, she always knew what he needed. He watched her lips shift and then part.

“Yes?” she whispered and he felt his own crooked smile.

“Yes?”

Her lips pursed at his teasing and she reached forward with their interlocked fingers to tangle hers in the front of his shirt. Reaching for him. The way she had never reached for him when they were together before.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” he agreed as he shifted to straighten, coming up from below her chin to find her lips with his own

“I was waiting for you,” she told him softly and he looked at her. One edge of his mouth shifted.

“Is that why you never encouraged Johnny?”

She made a noise, a feminine click of her tongue and her face softened into a gentle smile for him even as he instinctively realized, as a male, that she was complaining of his complete lack of understanding what she’d just said. For some reason it made him smile too though and she cupped his face with a hand. Her thumb brushed his cheek. And, again, she leaned in to him. The way she never had before and her lips shyly brushed his, still getting used to being able to.

“I only ever wanted to be with you,” she explained away the men she’d ignored as if ignoring them hadn’t been a miracle, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a stunningly beautiful, independent woman to not involve herself with dating and men. The subtle roll of her shoulder told him there had never been another option in her mind. Even with him ‘dead’ as far as she knew…? Has she loved him as consistently as he’d always loved her? Her fingertip touched the tip of his nose and drew him out of his thoughts.

“I was waiting for you.” When his eyes found hers, she added: “To be you.”

He reached out and pulled her down to him then, sliding her so that she sat in his lap facing him and the inside of her thighs were against his hips. He’d wanted her body like this for longer than he could remember and even though her cheeks went pink again, she didn’t try to shift off of him. And he suddenly realized what she was giving him – if he decided to take it. Hesitantly testing, he slid his palm up the outside of her thigh until his fingertips found the hem of her short skirt where his movement had pushed it so far up her legs. He slid his fingers up the skirt but let his thumb slide under it. Her breath caught and her lashes fluttered low against her cheeks again. But her body swayed forward a little more into his and she arched her neck forward so that it was the curve of a swan’s. Her fingers shifted on his shoulder. Kneading.

“This is all right?” he asked softly and couldn’t quite hid his smile as, eyes still closed, she nodded and shifted so that the skirt rose the slightest bit higher. Gentle, tender, he kissed her and the hand that had been on his shoulder slipped around to curve over his shoulder, fingerings curving against his back. His lips barely parted from hers.  
  
”Am I me now?”

And she nodded. Hands moving to touch her, arms shifting to pull her close, he kissed her again. She was Tifa Lockheart and she was all and the only thing he’d always, always wanted for himself.


	22. It's A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter from my pre-Advent Children fics. Thanks so much to everyone that came along, and will come along, for the ride. And especial thanks to those that left reviews. You remind me how much fun the Cloti/FFVII fandom is!

Her hands were shaking.

She sat on the edge of the tub with the scissors and tried to make them stop shaking. They shouldn't even be shaking. She'd fought monsters, saved the world, killed a demon, lost an angel... her hands shouldn't start shaking now. Over this of all things.

But they are and she presses her lips together and tries to make them stop.

It shouldn't be so hard. This is about new beginnings. If Midgar can have a new beginning out of it's destruction... shouldn't she be allowed to as well? Her old life is over. She's not Tifa Lockhart, AVALANCHE member, planet savior, wanted terrorist, monster fighter. She's Tifa Lockhart, bar owner, adopted mother, family provider, quiet citizen of a new world. She's already left behind the battle gloves and the steel toed shoes. There's no place for them in painting new walls or ordering glasses. No place for long, arm protecting sheaths or the metal elbow guard against running children and sweeping floors of concrete dust and the mud of a new city. She's working on a leather apron to go over the shorts she wears now because it's easier to chase a little girl and an absent minded young man in shorts than in a short skirt. Even the half top might go as the suspenders and belt already are because she's thinking of a leather vest of some sort to make any food or liquid spills she gets on her easier to clean...

She's a long way from blood and the mud of half of Gaia and the sweat of a long fight and the ache of knuckles joints.

Even the materia's been put away. It's part of Gaia, mako energy and it just seems... wrong to use it in this new world that's struggling so hard to leave mako behind and move forward to safer, kinder means of living. Cloud has most of it, Yuffie - despite herself has some of it. Tifa keeps a few mastered pieces in safe places around the bar and the home. Important pieces like the Phoenix and several Restores as well as a Time and, because she'll never feel entirely safe, Lightning. But she doesn't wear them anymore.

She's leaving all of that behind.

It's part of living, like Barret says. It's moving forward to put some hope against all that despair she caused.

Cloud's doing it.

He's got those little side trips he's making that he's just told her about. It's mostly favors now but he's already letting her talk him into making it a business. She knows he needs to feel useful and she knows he'll never feel as if he belongs here if he's not contributing gil. She knows, despite not always liking it, that he needs to be out in big, empty places to settle himself sometimes and she knows that he needs to protect and sometimes that means killing random monsters. She knows he's uncomfortable interacting with strangers sometimes now, though Gaia knows he did it enough when they were traveling, but the point is - Cloud's moving forward too. He's struggling to leave his past behind and step into the future.

Their future.

Because that's what he calls it. He says 'together' and she says 'family' and they both know that they mean the same thing. Most days...

She's stalling and she knows it. Locking her jaw she lifts the scissor again - and closes her eyes. She hears the snick of the blade and when she opens her eyes... there a long dark strand of hair on the bathroom floor. She has a moment to stare at the living contrast - and then it all goes blurry as her eyes fill up with tears.

Stupid. It's just a hair cut. She'd promised - !

Running the back of her scissor free hand over her eyes, she tries to push away the tears. This isn't someone dying. It's not the end of the world. It's just a stupid, stupid desperate hair cut. It shouldn't be a big deal. She wants to do this - she really does. It's a part of moving forward and getting on with her life.

So why does she feel like wailing like a little girl and hiding in her room?

"Tifa...?"

She looks up in horror to see a watery shape standing in the doorway but she knows it's Cloud before she even blinks the tears away. He's not supposed to see her like this. Everyone's supposed to be gone.

Doesn't he knock?

But no, Cloud never knocks... but she also didn't lock the door and he thinks no one's supposed to be home. For a very long time they both stare at each other, frozen where they are and then his eyes finally leave hers to take in the scissors... and the lock of dark hair near her feet.

She feels embarrassed. And guilty. As if he's caught her doing something bad she's not supposed to and she watches him meekly as his eyes finally rise to find hers again. The question comes out soft and softly without inflection as he finally calmly asks:

"Tifa... why are you cutting your hair?"

"I promised," it comes out louder than she'd meant it to and more choked than she'd wanted and she turns her head away to scrub at her eyes again. He stands in the doorway, hesitant and caught between leaving and staying. She doesn't blame him. She doesn't get emotional like this often and especially not over something as stupid as cutting off her hair. Miserable, she hunches her shoulders and looks away, waiting for him to leave so she can finish. He's not supposed to see her this way and she's supposed to already have this done and dealt with before everyone comes home.

It's a long stretching minute. Finally, without looking at him, she gives in.

"I promised I'd cut my hair," its a whisper and she suddenly realizes how silly it all sounds. She stops - but he stays where he is and finally she bows her head and says: "After Nibelheim. I - promised myself that I wouldn't cut my hair until - " her voice fades off, "Until I'd made the people that did that pay."

It sounded so over-dramatic now - and it was. It was a fifteen year old girl's need for revenge and a hatred that she'd had to fuel to keep herself alive when she really had no reason to not join the rest of her village, her world, and simply give up and die too. She'd changed since then. Not much. Not in any noble way. But enough that the long hair, now that both ShinRa and Sephiroth were gone, reminded her of who she had been and the life she'd lived and the one she wanted to leave behind. She looks up at Cloud and opens her mouth to explain - except he already is.

"It's not who you are anymore." His voice is quiet and she waits for him to say more, but he doesn't. He simply steps into the bathroom too, boots solid on the tile and gently takes the scissors from her. The waste basket makes a soft noise as he pulls it over as well and he takes her long hair in his gloved hands. For a long time, they both freeze there... and then he bends his head and she feels the pressure of the scissors.

It feels slow but he never stops, never lets go, never looks away from what he's doing. She feels the weight when the hair comes free, slowly growing lighter and she doesn't look when the scissors finally stop and he leans down to set the long, broken coil of her hair in the waste basket. He sets the scissors back in her limp hands where they rest in her lap, blade pointed away from her.

And then he gently smooths his hand over her hair in one long stroke. Very softly, he whispers:

"I like it."

Shooting him a surprised look she sees the look in his eyes and he's a little boy, full of wonder and contentment. He catches her look and the smile he gives her is shy. Then he scoops up the waste basket and, fitting it under his arm, he goes back out the door.

Worried, hesitant, Tifa lifts her hand and smooths it down the same path his had taken. Slow, her lips start to curve at their very edges. It feels...

It feels like a new promise.


End file.
